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Neutral
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At some point, he'd flipped over. Feo stared at the ceiling, his chest rising and falling in uneven breaths as the silence of the room pressed down on him. He couldn’t stop his mind from racing, even though exhaustion tugged at him like a physical weight. His eyes flickered toward Lucius when he finally emerged from the bathroom, damp hair sticking to his face, the white wings folding close like a shield. The sight twisted something in Feo’s chest—a mixture of guilt, longing, and a sharp, bone-deep ache he couldn’t name. - He turned his gaze back to the ceiling, hoping that not looking would ease the icy sensation creeping through him. It didn’t. - Time dragged on, the seconds stretching into what felt like hours. Feo shifted restlessly, the blanket pulled tightly around him, though it did little to keep the cold at bay. His fingers curled into the fabric as he fought to still his mind. It wasn’t working. The memories lingered at the edge of his vision, like shadows he couldn’t shake. - After a while, he gave up staring at the ceiling and turned over, his eyes landing on Lucius’s back. The white wings would shift slightly every time Lucius moved, the soft feathers catching the dim light from the bedside lamp. Feo’s gaze lingered there, unbidden, watching the faint rise and fall of his shoulders. He evidently was not asleep, and Feo felt a random urge grab at him to ask questions that would certainly get bad answers. - The sight made the cold inside him worse. It wasn’t the type of chill that came from the air, or even the type he’d grown used to over the years. It was deeper than that, an ache that settled into his chest and refused to leave. Looking at Lucius, all Feo could think about was how fragile he seemed, even with the wings. How breakable he was. How easily this could all end. - How easily he could lose him. - Feo tore his gaze away, unable to bear the thought any longer. He rolled over, pulling his knees to his chest and facing away from Lucius. His grip on the blanket tightened, his nails biting into the fabric. The room was quiet, save for the slight, faint whistling of thr wind outside and the occasional creak of the building settling. - In that quiet, Feo’s thoughts spiraled. He thought of the man he’d lost, the one who haunted his dreams and waking hours alike. The boy who’d died because Feo hadn’t been enough to save him. The boy whose face flickered in every corner of his mind, whose name he couldn’t bear to say. - And now, Lucius. - He squeezed his eyes shut, but it didn’t stop the silent tears from spilling over. They slipped down his cheeks, warm and unbidden, as he curled tighter into himself. The ache in his chest grew heavier with every breath, a weight that pressed against his ribs and threatened to crush him. - The tears weren’t loud, weren’t enough to disturb the quiet of the room, but they felt endless. He mourned for the man he’d already lost and for the one he was so sure he was destined to lose. It didn’t matter what promises Lucius made, or how many times he said he wasn’t going anywhere. The world didn’t work like that—not for people like them. - Feo bit down on his lip, trying to stifle the trembling that shook his body. He didn’t want to stir Lucius, didn’t want him to see this, didn’t want to explain. It was better this way, better to keep it all buried, even if it tore him apart inside. Knowing what happened.. what Feo did.. it would destroy Lucius. And Feo feared that Lucius would hate him so much that he might not ever love him back. And that thought shot another sharp sting into his chest. - The tears continued to fall, silent and steady, as Feo lay there, clutching the blanket as though it could hold him together. Holding it just like he wanted to hold Lucius. |
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Lightbringer
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The entirety of the train ride played in his mind over and over again. Why had it happened this way? There was something that had shifted, had changed part way through the train ride. Even about confronting Atlas--there was something under that rage-fueled attack that Feo was trying to avoid but only ended up alluding to. It was in the way he hadn't even let Lucius try and talk his way out--just went straight for the attack, clung to him through the entire thing and spent a lot of energy to do so. To the point, he had essentially collapsed out of exhaustion. Why? He had murmured the soft two words--which Lucius was almost certain he regretted now--just before he had passed out. But the way he had jolted out of sleep... there was something there. He had terror and fear in the way he had woken up, flurrying to push hair from his face. Now Lucius had his doubts as to whether or not it really was a weird dream. It had to have been something else. That provided the background behind the reaction to the River Styx. He, not only had, fear and panic but a physical reaction to the sheer concept. But there, behind his eyes, was something he was seeing that wasn't there. Lucius wasn't sure if it was memories or not. But the sheer terror that Lucius had felt when Feo had raced toward the edge of the train car had almost snapped his heartstrings. He could postpone his plans for a bit, right now, he needed to figure out the story behind these reactions. Feo had leaned in, but kept something out of reach. Which, unfortunately for him, was not helpful. It was especially a problem for Feo since Lucius wasn't now determined to figure out what was behind his eyes. What had happened? While Feo had the urge to ask question, Lucius was already preparing for the chewing out for when he asked his own questions. He could hear his breathing, Feo wasn't asleep. He finally sat up and looked toward the wall, conflicted emotions in his gaze. Was he really ready to ask these questions? It didn't matter, he had to ask them. He had to piece through what was going on behind the demigod's mask. Whatever had happened was still affecting him, whether he liked it or not. Lucius let different forms of the same question tumble over in his mind as he thought of the best way to ask. Finally, he turned his head to the side, not entirely looking straight at Feo. But somewhat toward him. "Feo, what happened?" |
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Neutral
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Feo froze, Lucius’s question hitting him like a physical blow. He could feel the weight of the words sinking into his skin, wrapping around his chest, squeezing. The silence that followed wasn’t relief—it was thick, suffocating, and laden with the expectation that Feo would answer. - He could hear Lucius shifting slightly, probably sitting up, but Feo didn’t turn to check. He didn’t move. His breathing hitched as a dozen different thoughts collided in his head, each one louder than the last. - What does he mean? What does he want me to say? Does he want me to tell him about the past? About the Styx? About... He stopped the thought short, his jaw tightening. - His hand went to his face, wiping at his cheeks with sharp, hurried motions. He could feel the cool streaks where the tears had been, the dampness left behind. He worked quickly to erase it, but the chill they left didn’t go away. It was still there, burrowed deep in his chest, spreading outward until even his fingertips felt cold. - Feo pressed his lips into a hard line, willing his breathing to even out, forcing himself to regain control. He adjusted his position, just slightly, enough to settle the blanket more firmly around himself without making it obvious that he was trying to shield himself. - The question hung in the air, relentless. Feo didn’t want to answer. He doesn’t deserve an answer. It’s none of his business. I didn’t ask for this. The anger came as a welcome distraction, a spark of fire in the freezing void, but it fizzled just as quickly as it had come. - Lucius hadn’t meant harm, but that didn’t make the question easier. - What happened? Feo hated how broad it was, how open-ended. It could mean anything. It could mean everything. His mind sifted through the possibilities, each one more painful than the last. - Was Lucius asking about Atlas? About the fight? About why Feo had pushed himself so hard, gone so far, clung so tightly? Or was he asking about the Styx? About why Feo had reacted the way he had, why he’d practically thrown his guts out of the train car? - Was he asking about before? About why Feo had woken up the way he had, gasping for air, drenched in terror he couldn’t explain without dredging up the things he’d tried so hard to bury? - No. No, no, no. - Feo squeezed his eyes shut, clenching his jaw against the rising tide of memories. He wouldn’t go there. He couldn’t go there. - But Lucius’s voice—it hadn’t been harsh or demanding. It hadn’t carried the weight of judgment or frustration. If anything, it had sounded... careful. Gentle. It made it harder to ignore. Harder to deflect. - "What do you mean?" Feo mumbled finally, his voice low and uneven, barely above a whisper. He hated how small it sounded, how much it betrayed the storm raging inside him. - He didn’t move, didn’t turn to look at Lucius. Instead, he stared blankly at the wall in front of him, his fingers curling into the blanket he’d wrapped around himself. The fabric bunched under his grip, a physical anchor against the pull of his thoughts. - He wanted Lucius to drop it. He wanted him to let the question go, to stop pushing, to stop prying into things Feo wasn’t ready to talk about—might never be ready to talk about. But deep down, he knew that wasn’t going to happen. - Feo bit the inside of his cheek, the sharp sting grounding him, pulling him back from the edge of the memories threatening to overwhelm him. He tightened his grip on the blanket, his nails digging slightly into the fabric, and waited. |
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Lightbringer
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Lucius tipped his head forward and let the silence draw on. Feo could try and pretend he hadn't heard him but Lucius knew better than that. He had heard the way his breathing froze, then the frantic movement to brush away tears to move at his face. The way he shifted on the bed, curling in on himself. Lucius understood that. The desire to curl in, to make it go away but that didn't help. It wouldn't help at all. His sapphire eyes finally turned to look at Feo, who refused to look back at him. "Feo," Lucius insisted quietly, "what happened? I... I need to know. Something happened on the train, your dream--it all came together when I opened my big mouth too. What happened?" His eyes studied the way Feo reacted, itching to find something in the attempt at shielding him away and fielding it off. Lucius was stubborn, far more stubborn than Feo really knew. If he couldn't get his plan to work then he'd focus on making sure Feo was alright. Because ... because that wasn't a good reaction! It should've been simple, telling him he was crazy, stupid and there would be another way to achieve what he was planning. Not... a physically almost violent reaction and to break through any wall he might have been able to form. This was not... what Lucius was expecting--nor did he suspect it was because of his simple idea. But this type of reaction was harsh and vicious. It left Lucius far more worried than anything else. This was not the type of reaction that someone should just have. This meant something was far more wrong than before and Lucius would put his plans in pause, set them in limbo, to piece out whatever this was. He moved from bed to the foot of Feo's bed, sitting down on the edge of it. His wings fluttered slightly, curling around himself just slightly to keep them from knocking anything over. "I'm here," he echoed quietly, stretching his hand out to brush along his knee. It was something he had echoed several times now, a lot of times now, but he meant it. He wasn't going away now, not when... not when it would hurt to let go. That would be detrimental and he'd probably end up doing something dumber without Feo than he ever would with him. "You're not going to chase me away," Lucius added after a moment. "... you're stuck with me. No matter what." And he meant that. There was, quite literally, nothing Feo could've done that would chase him off. Most of that being that for the vast majority of his life he had been under Loki's control. Which meant anything he had done there was Loki's actions, not his own. |
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Neutral
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Feo lifted his head slightly, his body still tense as he felt Lucius’s hand brush against his knee. The touch was light, careful, as if Lucius was testing the waters, trying not to push too far. Feo’s breath hitched at the contact, and he immediately turned his face away, staring back at the wall. - But then he saw it—out of the corner of his eye, in Lucius’s expression. He didn’t need to look directly to know. Lucius was asking about the dream. - Just the dream. - Feo exhaled shakily, the tension in his shoulders softening only slightly. He could talk about the dream. That was fine. It was nothing new. Just Loki, being Loki. That was manageable. As long as he didn’t have to mention the boy. - His fingers loosened their grip on the blanket, though they didn’t let go completely. He stared at the floor for a moment, collecting his thoughts, trying to piece together something coherent. His voice, when it finally came, was quiet and unsteady, the words halting at first. - “It was dark,” he began, his tone low and uneven. “I didn’t know where I was. Just... this wasteland. There was nothing around me, nothing ahead of me, just endless black.” His throat tightened slightly, but he pressed on, his words stumbling over each other. - “And then—he was there. Loki. Out of nowhere. Like he always does.” The name came out bitter, laced with something deeper than irritation—something closer to pain. “He was... smiling. That smile he has. The one that looks like he’s playing a game you don’t know the rules to.” - Feo’s gaze dropped to his hands, his nails pressing into his palms as he spoke. “He didn’t say much at first. Just stood there, watching. Waiting. And I... I couldn’t move. I wanted to. I wanted to leave, to get away, but I couldn’t. My feet were stuck, like the ground was holding onto me.” - He paused, his breath catching as the memory came back sharper, clearer. “He finally spoke. Mocked me, essentially. Said he couldn't tell whether I'd grown, or just become more like him." Feo’s jaw tightened, his fingers curling into fists. “I asked him why. Why he.. why he abandoned me. Threw me into a school to learn about demigods just to kill them, and he told me that I had potential. Every single time.. 'you're wasting your potential', 'you could be something great', 'think of all the power you could have'.. he called me a disappointment. That I could be so great, if I let go of..” he shrank. Loki hadn't been talking about Lucius. But hopefully, he wouldn't know any better. "..of people like you, holding me back. And if I didn't, that I'd.. I'd never escape." - Feo’s voice grew quieter, almost a whisper. “I am part of his blood. I'd always be in his clutches. Never free.” His stomach churned at the memory, the way Loki’s words had cut through him like a blade. “I am his property.” - The room felt colder as the words hung in the air, Feo’s chest tightening as he fought the wave of emotions threatening to overwhelm him. “He always knows where to hit. What to say to make you doubt yourself.” - He swallowed hard, his voice trembling as he finished. “I woke up before he could say anything else. But it felt so real. Like he was actually there, in my head, twisting everything around. I-I can't tell if it was just a dream, or if he was really there." - Feo fell silent, his breathing unsteady as he kept his gaze fixed on the floor. He didn’t dare look at Lucius, didn’t dare let him see the cracks in the armor he’d worked so hard to keep intact. |
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Lightbringer
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Loki. Lucius tipped his head to the side as the thought came to him again. Feo was so certain that they could take him on but Lucius wasn't so certain. That was the problem. A wasteland, endless black--which probably correlated with the River styx... and definitely didn't help anything when Lucius tried to insist. Lucius took his hands in his own, prying his fingers out to keep from breaking the skin. But the god mocked him instead. Lucius couldn't say it wasn't a dream, he knew full well it was likely real. But that was why he was going to be looking into a dreamcatcher and--and--a sort of headrest pillow thing. He had seen one before at the old campus. Just to kill them. But Feo hadn't done that. Sure, he had gotten a reputation but that was mostly fueled by the fires of rumors. His own hand moved from one of Feo's, reaching out to brush along his cheek. "Feo," he whispered softly. "I'm sorry..." The young man let out a small noise. He wanted to say something that would help but he didn't want to hurt him either. "Loki doesn't know you," he finally said quietly. "He knows the mask you've shown him. You're smarter than he is--I mean, look at this. Look at where we are, we are in Kansas of all places and he has no idea." Lucius tilted his head to the side and then back again. "The only thing he can claim is blood--we're adults. He can't even claim you as a dependent legally. Loki doesn't want you to bust free like this because he's scared of you," Lucius added, his shoulders squaring as he scanned Feo's face with sapphire eyes. "He's scared of what you can do. That's why he's trying to break you down, to get that mask back up," his thumb brushed over Feo's cheek. He let out a quiet noise, a weary sigh as he pulled Feo closer, wrapping his own wings around him. "Y'know what? He deserves to be scared, he deserves to feel like he's losing you. He never deserved someone like you in the first place." Lucius's nose crinkled upward as his brow furrowed in a determined frown. Loki didn't deserve anything good--especially not from Feo. If that was how he was going to treat others? Absolutely not. The winds of change had shifted and now Lucius was aiding them in the direction that Loki didn't like. Served him right. "You are worth so much more than a cranky old god's opinion," Lucius whispered quietly, running his hand up and down Feo's shoulder. "You are smart, you're clever, you are... so brave--and powerful. But you're also kind and caring, you change for the better--you want to learn and grow to be more than just him. You are Asrifeon, you are my Raven.... and I wouldn't change it for the world." |
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Neutral
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Feo lay there, the weight of Lucius's words settling over him like a blanket—not heavy, but warm, protective. He could feel his own breath steadying, the tremors in his chest fading as he absorbed every syllable. Lucius spoke with a conviction Feo wished he could find within himself. - His eyes darted between Lucius's vibrant sapphire gaze, lingering a fraction too long. Feo swallowed hard, his throat tight for a different reason now. He noticed the way Lucius's lips moved as he spoke, soft and deliberate, and his heart gave an uncomfortable jolt. - He shifted slightly, easing himself onto his back as if to escape the intensity of the moment, but it didn’t help. The fluttering warmth in his chest refused to dissipate. His eyes flicked down, catching briefly on Lucius’s lips again before darting away, as though burned by the thought. - The urge was there, sudden and unrelenting. A desire to close the distance between them, to kiss him, to let Lucius's warmth anchor him even more. Feo clenched his jaw, pushing the thought down, but it clung stubbornly to the edges of his mind. He felt the heat rise up into his face, and he stifled it by darkening his skin tone almost immediately. He could tell it wasn't enough. He was still much too tired to do too much to his appearance, and the blush was bright enough to be seen clearly in any skin tone. He gave up, and it went back to normal. Well, mostly normal. - Instead, he gave a soft nod, his voice barely above a whisper. “Thank you,” he said, his tone earnest but laced with a quiet vulnerability. - His grip on Lucius's hand tightened, his long fingers curling around Lucius’s. The touch was enough, for now. Feo wasn’t sure if he could handle more without breaking the fragile sense of composure he’d managed to piece together. - He closed his eyes briefly, willing the darker thoughts to retreat. Loki’s face—mocking, cruel—tried to claw its way back into his mind, but Feo fought it off with the image of Lucius. The soft way he spoke, the gentle brush of his hand, the protective warmth of his wings. - Feo inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly, letting the tension in his body melt away. His mind wandered to what Lucius had said—about being more than just Loki’s blood, about being feared for his potential. Feo didn’t feel powerful, but he wanted to believe it. He wanted to be more than Loki’s puppet, his “property.” - The flickering images of vengeance flashed through his mind again, unbidden. He imagined all the ways he could destroy Loki, make him pay for every scar he’d left behind, every cruel word he’d spoken. But then he shook his head slightly, clearing the images away. - Not now. - For now, Feo let himself focus on the present, on the soft press of Lucius’s hand in his, on the faint scent of him—fresh, clean, grounding. Feo felt safe, his body no longer cold, his heart no longer racing with fear. - He opened his eyes again, glancing at Lucius from beneath his lashes. He wasn’t sure how to say what he was feeling—gratitude, affection, the faint flickers of something more. So he stayed quiet, holding on tightly to Lucius’s hand as if afraid to let go. - He wasn’t cold anymore. That was enough. |
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Lightbringer
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The faint words were there, a brief whispered 'thank you' but it was something. It was something more than what had been there before. Feo looked at least somewhat less sick. That was... that was good. It wasn't the best but it was something. His gaze traveled down to their hands once Feo gave it a tighter hold. It was something. Lucius tightened his own grip, enough to hold onto Feo. In the silence, Lucius let it linger for a few more moments. Sometimes, the silence was alright. Other times, it was too loud, it let in the thoughts he didn't want to think about. Feo's eyes opened once more, to which Lucius tilted his head to the side and finally hesitated to break the silence. The hesitation was brief, speaking as he adjusted his position on the bed to kneel rather than sit. "Do you want me to find something to eat or no? I mean, you probably want a chance to shower too, after laying on the train car... that wasn't the most clean... place to take a nap for either of us." He managed a lopsided smile, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. The other hand remained in Feo's hand, refusing to let go of it. He didn't trust that Feo wasn't going to somehow... fly away or disappear if he let go. "But I do want to find something ... crafty stuff. Probably a needle stitching loop, some twine or yarn--whichever is cheapest will work. I don't need feathers, I've already got plenty," he grinned slightly, ruffling his wings. "But hopefully, that'll be able to stave off some of the dreams between the two of us." While Lucius figured out a plan. One where he could physically march right up to Loki and give him a solid sucker punch without breaking himself in the process. Every time he even thought about throwing a punch, his arm ached. It had been a subtle blessing in a weird way, Lucius had learned how to be ambidextrous. It was hard to do stuff when it was his former dominant arm that had broken. But that memory was embedded in his brain. He was angry, no more than fifteen or so, the other young student had been taunting him. He had pushed him lightly and Lucius had swung. Swung, connected with his jaw and his bones had not agreed with that motion. He had spent almost four or five months in a cast and then a brace for another four. So he wanted to figure out a plan that avoided that from happening again. Clearly, the Styx plan was out the door. Much to his inner dismay. So he had to come up with something but that was a mess for later. Right now it was stave off dreams and give Loki one giant bird. |
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Neutral
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Feo nodded quietly at Lucius’s offer, his voice low but carrying enough weight to feel like a decision. “Food sounds good.” He didn’t know if it was true. Hunger wasn’t what he felt, but the gnawing emptiness in his stomach told him it didn’t matter. If he was going to keep moving, keep going, he needed fuel. Even if he couldn’t sleep, even if the nightmares came back, at least food might keep him standing long enough to reach the next step. - As he sat up, his shoulder pressed into Lucius’s, seeking that steady, grounding presence. Feo leaned in more, a soft sigh escaping him, barely audible but heavy with unspoken words. This was fine, right? He could stay here a little longer. The warmth was comforting, soothing. Too soothing. If he stayed much longer, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to pull away. - The thought of showering crept into his mind, and his nose wrinkled slightly in hesitation. He needed it—badly. He knew it had been at least a day, maybe two since his last attempt at feeling clean. Bathing in the other hotel had been a half-hearted endeavor at best, a soak in soapy water that had done little to scrub away the grime clinging to his skin or the weight pressing on his chest. He didn’t smell yet—at least not that he could tell—but he knew it was only a matter of time before even that neutrality became unpleasant. - But the idea of leaving Lucius, even just to shower, made his stomach twist uncomfortably. He tightened his fingers around Lucius’s hand, as if afraid that letting go might shatter the fragile sense of safety he’d found in his presence. He hated this—hated feeling so dependent, so small and vulnerable. He wanted to be stronger, to push himself to move, but the warmth beside him was too tempting, too calming. - Feo’s gaze lifted slowly to meet Lucius’s face. He stared at him, searching for something, anything, that might make this easier. He didn’t say it out loud, but he didn’t need to. His gaze said everything: Please. Help me. Convince me to let go before I embarrass myself. - He realized how close they were, how steady and unwavering Lucius seemed even now. Feo swallowed hard, his heart thrumming in his chest. He felt like he was balancing on the edge of a cliff, teetering between holding on and falling entirely. - He wanted Lucius to understand—to push him without breaking him, to give him the reason he couldn’t find on his own. He couldn’t stay here forever, clinging to Lucius like some helpless child. But at the same time, he didn’t want to let go. - His gaze flickered to their intertwined hands, then back to Lucius’s face. He wanted to say something, to acknowledge the conflict in his chest, but his throat tightened, and the words stuck. Instead, he just kept looking, willing Lucius to see the struggle on his face, to understand the unspoken plea in his eyes. - Help me move, he thought, his mind screaming what his lips refused to form. Help me let go before I get too used to this. Before I start needing this more than I already do. - Feo shifted slightly, leaning into Lucius just a bit more, as though afraid this moment might end too soon. He didn’t know what he needed—not really. But he trusted Lucius to figure it out, to say the right thing, to do the right thing. Lucius always seemed to know what Feo needed, even when Feo didn’t know himself. And so, he stayed quiet, waiting, hoping Lucius would give him the nudge he couldn’t give himself. |
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Lightbringer
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((Bah, a little on the short side >.>)) Food sounds good. That was good. That was a lot of good actually, it was a good sign that things were going up instead of going backwards. Hunger was good, even just allowing yourself to think that you might possibly be hungry. Or, even if you didn't, eating anyways. It was something more than nothing. Lucius helped him sit up, providing a steadying presence. It was something, it was at least something. His gaze, briefly, looked out the window for a few moments, thinking slowly. There had to be at least a little diner around--somewhere close by--that would have something to go. That would be their best option. He glanced back down at the demigod in his arms, wrapping his arms around him as well. A part of him didn't want to let go either, afraid that if he did... something would happen. The more logical part of him wondered if that was a stupid idea. "It won't be for long," Lucius whispered softly, pressing his forehead to Feo's. "I'll get something to eat for us, you just take a nice long shower or bath, whatever you want. We'll be okay. It's going to be okay, no mater what." His sapphire eyes softened, looking down at their hands and then back up at Feo before he leaned back again. "It's not for long, just maybe twenty minutes at the maximum. I promise." The words had slid out without too much thought but Lucius was relatively confident that he shouldn't be that long. Twenty minutes was mostly for the food to cook. He figured it should be plenty of time. Finally, Lucius paused, leaving a gentle kiss on Feo's forehead before he slid off of the bed, guiding Feo to follow him from the bed and at least stand up. One step at a time, that was all they needed to do. One thing, one step, one moment. It would all add up eventually but this was probably good enough. "I'll be back," Lucius let out a small noise, almost a lopsided half-laugh. "Don't you worry and I'll bring food. Is there anything in particular you'd like to drink with it?" |
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Winter 
Night 
Clear Moon: 
