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Lightbringer
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Lucius wasn't entirely certain what all was going to happen on a plane. But since nobody else was looking worried, he figured it was fine. Everything was fine. That was partially why he had said what he had said before. It wasn't going wrong, nothing was wrong, it was all just fine. Everything was fine. Lucius settled into the seat, setting the bottle of water in the little cup holder beside him. His eyes lit up just a little bit, almost amazed to find that it even existed. This was a fancy-dancy little aircraft. What a wonder! He turned his gaze back to Feo, smiling back at him for a moment as he looked down at the pouch. The little pouch that apparently held Asgardian coinage. Comparatively, Lucius was probably way more poor than Feo but then again, compared to gold coin and cash... it was a bit difficult to tell. It was much easier to do cash-to-cash transactions rather than attempting to try gold-to-cash transactions. His words, however, caught him off guard again. Normally, he'd laugh it off, the other person would agree with him and they'd move on from the conversation or topic. Lucius wasn't entirely used to having it ... stick around like this--let alone having someone reassure him? Feo's cheeks were slightly tinged but Lucius couldn't hide his own. He--he was good ... at that? Already? Lucius hadn't... he... didn't think so. He really didn't. Sure it was something he was trying to work on but he hadn't felt like he had reached that yet. He was just there. He was just... learning. He was still in practice! His fair freckled cheeks flushed with a deep color, a slightly mottled color that tinged his ears and went right over his nose. He cleared his throat and looked away with one hand on his mouth. He wasn't exactly fond of his flushed face. Unlike just one color in a sort of blushing fashion, his came in mottled splotches. A spot around his cheek that eventually bled into the other splotch by his nose and his ear and around--it was patchy, it was... it was ugly. "I--ugh--ha--" Lucius stammered for a moment, clearing his throat. "I'm just... I'm not perfect at it, you know. I'm just practicing still, I'm learning. It's... I'm not perfect at it at all--" He cut off as the steward closed the plane door and stood in the isle, explaining the usual jargon that they always went through. Lucius wasn't paying too much attention to much other than exit, emergency exit, something about parachutes, which he wouldn't need, and turbulence. Blah blah blah. |
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Neutral
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Feo fell silent again, his thoughts a whirlwind of confusion and heat, until Lucius broke the quiet. His voice was steady, but there was a strange quality to it—a hesitance, maybe, or a tremor that Feo couldn’t quite place. It was enough to make him glance up despite himself. - That’s when he saw it. - Lucius was blushing. - Not just a faint, polite flush, but a full-on, fiery bloom of crimson that spread from his cheeks to the tips of his ears. It was so intense that Feo could swear he could feel the heat radiating across the small space between them. It was such an unexpected sight that Feo froze, his hands halting mid-motion as he worked on the pouch. He blinked once, then twice, unsure if he was seeing things. - No, it was real. Lucius, the ever-composed and sharp-tongued Lucius, was blushing so hard. - What had he done? Feo’s mind raced, retracing the last few moments in search of a clue. Was it something he had said? Something about the way he had said it? Could it really have been enough to fluster Lucius like this? His own words played back in his mind, but none of them seemed extraordinary enough to warrant this reaction. Was it something about him? Or… was it just Lucius being unexpectedly sensitive? - And then another, far more alarming thought crept in, uninvited. Why was Feo suddenly noticing how... cute Lucius looked like this? The flush, patchy and vivid against his pale skin, the way he kept glancing anywhere but at Feo, as if the very act of meeting his gaze might tip him over some unseen edge—it was disarming in a way Feo couldn’t quite explain. - He rubbed his face with his hands, hard enough to leave faint marks on his cheeks, as if that would somehow reset his brain. What was wrong with him? He wasn’t supposed to be thinking things like this, least of all about Lucius. But the thought lingered, persistent and maddening, refusing to be dismissed. - Meanwhile, the steward was speaking, the voice cutting through the tension like a dull blade, but the words were meaningless to Feo. They drifted past him like mist, utterly inconsequential compared to the riddle that was Lucius’s face and the inexplicable shift in his own feelings. - What? What? - Feo’s thoughts looped endlessly, chasing their own tails. Why was this happening? And more importantly, how? How had Lucius, of all people, managed to rattle him like this? Feo was used to keeping a cool head, to hiding his true self behind masks and misdirection. But now, it felt like the walls he had so carefully built were cracking, letting in feelings he wasn’t prepared to face. - He groaned softly, dropping his face into his hands. The darkness provided by his cupped palms was oddly soothing, a brief reprieve from the chaos. But it didn’t last long. - As he sat there, his mind spinning and his cheeks still faintly warm, Feo realized just how utterly drained he was. The disguise he had worn—the unassuming brown-haired brunette—had taken more out of him than he’d expected. Every moment spent maintaining the illusion had chipped away at his energy, and the sleepless night he’d endured beforehand certainly hadn’t helped. - Now, as he sat under the weight of it all, exhaustion pressed down on him like a lead blanket. Even the steward’s voice, once a distant buzz, now seemed impossibly far away. The urge to close his eyes, to surrender to the pull of sleep, was becoming harder and harder to resist. - Feo straightened abruptly, forcing himself to sit upright. He couldn’t afford to let his guard down, not here, not now. But even as he fought against it, his exhaustion was a relentless tide, pulling him deeper into its grasp. He was battling not just the heat in his cheeks or the confusion in his heart, but also the simple, primal need for rest. - His gaze flickered back to Lucius. The sight of him brought a new wave of questions, all of them unanswered. Feo rubbed the back of his neck, trying to focus, trying to push past the haze clouding his mind. - But one thought lingered above the rest, unshakable in its simplicity. - What had Lucius done to him? And why, despite everything, did Feo feel like he didn’t entirely mind? |
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Lightbringer
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Lucius shook his head lightly, swallowing thickly. This was bad. This was so bad. How on earth had he just torn through everything like that? It made no sense. It made no sense whatsoever. This demigod hadn't... what was happening? He had just said that he was already good at it. Why did that matter so much? It didn't, right? He was just being pretentious about it or something or... or... Or it was because Feo meant it. Every single word that he had said had been genuine and true. There was no ounce of hidden meaning, hidden irony... nothing. There wasn't an ounce of sarcasm or dry humor or heat in the words he had said. That was what had caught Lucius off guard. That was the exact reason he was looking as splotchy as a rotten tomato left in the garden too long. Ohhh he was so awful when he flushed with color like this. He knew he looked awful and he couldn't do a thing to hide it. "I am... so sorry," Lucius mumbled, unable to hide a weary laugh from escaping. "I... y'know what, how about... we never mention this happened...?" He glanced briefly toward Feo and leaned back. At the least, there was a small groan and Feo set his face into his hands. Which allowed Lucius some time to quickly rub his face, hoping to dissipate the color or make the heat go away. Something--anything. He startled when Feo straightened upright rather quickly. He took in a deep breath opening and closing his mouth for a moment before he nodded slowly. "How about, hear me out, how about we both just go to sleep for a little bit and forget any of this," he gestured to himself and back to Feo, "ever happened. Solid? Yeah? Sweet." Lucius sank slightly in his seat, looking toward the window as the plane jerked into motion, puttering down the taxiway, pausing on the runway before settling into position. The engines roared beside them, waiting for the moment to launch itself into the air. With the whine of the engines in his ears, Lucius clipped the buckle over his lap and watched the ground below fly by as the plane launched forward, racing down the runway. His stomach swirled slightly with the feeling, but it was exhilarating. Good gravy it was ... it was amazing. The plane tilted the nose back, lifting from the runway and off into the open sky, soaring upward into the clouds. Lucius let out a small sigh, settling into the chair as his ears popped slightly. He stifled a small yawn with one hand and let his eyes drift closed. Everything was fine. But was it though? Because goodness gracious, Feo had torn through whatever facade he had in a simple sentence. Maybe he needed more practice. |
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Neutral
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Feo tried to respond, but then the hum of the engines grew louder, a steady vibration that resonated through his body. He stiffened in his seat, his hands gripping the edge of the armrests like they were the only things keeping him tethered to the ground. His chest tightened as the plane began to move, a slow crawl that quickly gained speed. - The pressure in the cabin shifted, a faint pop in his ears that sent a jolt of unease through him. Feo’s breathing grew shallow, his heart hammering against his ribs as the aircraft hurtled down the runway and into the air. The sensation of being pressed back against the seat as the plane lifted off the ground sent a spike of panic through him. - He hated this. - He hated the feeling of being so utterly out of control, the way the world tilted beneath him as they climbed higher and higher. The ground fell away, and with it, any semblance of stability Feo might have clung to. His fingers dug into the armrests, his knuckles turning white. - The air felt too thin, too heavy, like it was pressing in on him from all sides. Feo’s chest heaved as he tried to draw in a steadying breath, but it was no use. His pulse roared in his ears, drowning out the muted hum of the engines and the faint murmurs of other passengers. - He clenched his eyes shut, willing himself to focus, to think, but his mind was a storm of irrational fears and memories he’d long since buried. The sense of vulnerability, of being exposed and powerless, clawed at him like an old wound torn open. - Why couldn’t he get a grip? Why now, of all times? - His breaths came faster, more ragged, as he fought against the rising tide of panic. His nails bit into the fabric of the armrests, his jaw clenched so tightly it ached. - This was supposed to be routine. Just another step in the plan. He was supposed to be calm, composed, the unshakable mask firmly in place. But as the plane continued its ascent, as the cabin tilted and his stomach twisted in protest, Feo realized just how fragile that mask truly was. - He needed to hold on. To something. To anything. But his own mind was slipping out of reach, a cascade of frayed thoughts and fractured control. His breath hitched, his hands trembling as he fought the urge to bolt, to do something—anything—to escape the suffocating reality of where he was. - But there was nowhere to go. No escape. - And that realization was almost worse than the fear itself. - There's his.. what, third panic attack of the day? - Feo was really looking forward to the rest of this adventure. - His hand fumbled around, looking for something to hold onto other than grasping the seat and tearing it up with his nails that flickered from nails to claws in his panicked state. Inevitably, his hand reached Lucius's, and he squeezed it tightly, his eyes coming closed just as hard. His appearance shifted back to his normal one quickly, unable to hold onto it. - What in the world was he doing here? |
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Lightbringer
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Lucius kept his eyes closed, his head leaned back against the chair. As the plane hit a plateau of altitude, he relaxed just a bit more and let himself piece through his thoughts. He was normally the one who made others blush. That was something he was well used to. It was natural, for him at least. In that sense. So what on earth had happened this time? How had Feo gone and torn through? Or had he torn through and instead wiggled his way through a crack somewhere in that mask that he kept up on his face. It wasn't hard, really. But it came with some caveats that he hadn't expected. Feo tearing through it was one of those few caveats. The sound of quick breathing caught his attention. Lucius slid his blue eyes open, turning to glance at Feo and instead found a tight grip on his hand instead. He looked like he should've looked at least. But Lucius was more focused on the tight grip on his hand instead of how Feo looked. His hand was in the tight grip of the Nordic demigod's, clutched like a lifeline. Lucius tilted his head, moved his hand around to grip Feo's in return. His blue eyes lifted upward to look toward his face, his eyes were screwed shut and there was that... expression again. The one that looked like he was going to float away if he let go. To be fair, preceding all things that Lucius did, one had to remember that thinking was a privilege. Thinking before you did something was a luxury. That being said, Lucius moved his other hand to trace along Feo's knuckles. His fingers light and gentle but running between his knuckles, around the back of his hand, tracing the lengths of his fingers, along the back, following the length of the tendons to the wrists. He'd draw a little circle and go back down the next finger. Not that he was really thinking. If he was entirely honest, he was more focused on how his skin felt. Lucius knew his hands were a bit more on the warm side, but Feo? Feo's fingers were cold, chilly and almost ice-like. Maybe that was part of the problem. It was cold. Lucius hardly stopped his hand, glad to let his mind just find radio silence. Absolute, total, silence. There was nothing going on in his brain at that moment, just.. Feo's hand. A singular thought popped up which had Lucius's touch pause, briefly. Water? Maybe Feo wouldn't mind a drink. Lucius reached back, snagging the bottle of water--which, to be fair, he hadn't opened yet at all. He had thought about it but he hadn't gotten around to it. Lucius figured that the pause in motion would get Feo to open his eyes, to which Lucius would offer the water to him. He didn't have to say anything but... it was there. |
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Neutral
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Feo’s grip on Lucius’s hand remained unyielding, the sensation grounding him in a moment that felt both fleeting and interminable. His pulse throbbed in his ears, the rapid beats echoing against his skull, a reminder of the panic that gripped him like a vice. The rhythmic warmth of Lucius’s fingers rubbing against his knuckles, though, helped to steady him, even if only for a fleeting moment. It was the faintest comfort, the only tether to reality in a world that seemed to be spinning out of control. Feo blinked rapidly, forcing himself to focus through the haze of panic that clouded his thoughts. He couldn’t let it win. Not here, not now. - His seyes opened warily, shifting from the intensity of his own thoughts to Lucius's face. Feo’s eyes flicked to the water in his hand, a simple bottle, and without a word, he reached out for it. His hand was hesitant, unsure, trembling slightly as if the act of reaching for something so mundane required more effort than it should have. - With a soft twist, Feo uncapped the bottle, the motion seeming to take far more focus than it should. His fingers fumbled with the cap, and he hated how it felt—so out of control, so alien. He brought the bottle to his lips, and the cold liquid slid down his throat in a few hurried sips. The sensation was almost startling, a sharp contrast to the dry feeling that had overtaken him. A few droplets splashed onto his chest, but he barely registered the mess. It wasn’t the water he needed right now, it was something to anchor him, to remind him that he was still here, still present in this moment. His hand shook as he pulled the bottle away, the feeling of the water in his mouth a strange, soothing relief against the dryness in his throat. - With almost mechanical movements, Feo capped the bottle and set it back in the holder, distancing himself from it as though by placing it there, he could somehow regain control, regain something solid under his feet. He wasn’t sure why the act of setting the bottle down felt so significant, but it did. It was something. He had done something, even if it was a small, seemingly insignificant action in the grand scheme of things. - Feo’s eyes flicked back to Lucius’s hand, still wrapped around his. The pressure was faint, but constant, a quiet tether that held him in place, a lifeline in the sea of his confusion. For a moment, he allowed himself to linger on the feeling, letting the warmth of Lucius’s touch seep into his mind. But only for a moment. He quickly looked away, his gaze darting to the side, unable to keep the vulnerability exposed for too long. He clenched his jaw, his thoughts spiraling with a rapid intensity. He was being ridiculous. He shouldn’t be like this. He was supposed to be fine. Just get through this. He could do it. He had to. - But despite the mental reassurances, his breath hitched again, a sharp inhale that cut through the fragile calm he had worked to build. He swallowed hard, the motion uncomfortable, as if the air itself had become thick, hard to swallow. He forced himself to take it slow, focusing on the steady rhythm of his breath, even though the thoughts in his mind felt thin and fragile, like a string stretched too tight. - His fingers flexed against Lucius’s hand, the tension still not fully releasing from his shoulders. His stomach churned, an unsettling feeling settling in his gut. It wasn’t just the motion of the plane, the gentle sway that had once been comforting now only adding to the unease. No, it was something deeper—something raw, something that felt as though it was gnawing at the edges of his very sense of self. The uncertainty, the disarray of his thoughts and emotions, left him feeling unmoored, as though his own body had become foreign to him. He couldn't remember the last time he felt this disconnected from himself, this vulnerable, this unsure. |
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Lightbringer
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There, there were the eyes that Lucius had been waiting to see. He didn't even say a word, letting go of the bottle and his hand. He shook, trembled, even. But considering how some others seemed to be fairing just about the same, Lucius chalked it up to just flying like this. This was different, way different from traveling or even flying by himself with his own pair of feathered wings. It was exhilarating. There was a notion in his stomach, a slight pressure in his head but that was largely ignored at the view from the window. The clouds reaching below, the ground that hardly seemed to move but yet, it moved faster than he had ever seen it move before. Something about the whole thing was exciting. It was new, it was inviting and unfamiliar at the same time. All at the same time. But, considering the fact that some people weren't quite as used to this as he was, Lucius turned his attention back to Feo to make sure he was doing somewhat alright. He took his hand again, smiling faintly. "Just keep the water, it'll do you a lot more good than it'll ever do me," he commented quietly, urging him to settled down again. "It's unfamiliar, it's new but it's exciting. This is the peak of it. We're just going to be up here for a few hours," he said. His voice was low, slipping under the regular volume of conversation in the plane--what could be heard over the engine noise. He kept hold of Feo's hand, an anchor point for the demigod. A small part of him was still worried that he was going to leave somehow. Which he couldn't have happen, not out here. That would prove to be potentially catastrophic to the entirety of the plan. Well... No, now was not the time for it. "If it helps, you can just lean back and rest a bit," Lucius urged quietly. "It's going to be a few hours," he repeated the phrase once again, "so you might as well just take advantage of it and rest for a bit." That was his initial plan, at the least, was to get some sleep in the plane. Whether or not that was going to happen now... well, it was a little more questionable than before. But oh well. Lucius leaned back in his own seat, his shoulders shifting back and forth. He was... oh he was kind of tired. Maybe he hadn't really gotten as much sleep as he wanted to from the night before. But he wanted to make sure that nothing else was going to go wrong, particularly with the demigod beside him. So he didn't doze off, not yet. |
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Winter 
Night 
Blizzard Moon: 
