And not to pull your halo down
SO. I had all sorts of stuff to say, but I'm too lazy for that. So have some writing.
LONG STORY SHORT. So, I have my ascoltare account, right? And then I had this idea and registered a prevedere account to go with it the other day, even though lol I can't play them myself on account of being satan's brother from another mother, and Nico's history kind of banks on them being dead, so.
And then, TO SHORTEN THIS FURTHER, I had this idea of WELL WHAT IF GODDUDE CAME BACK FROM THE DEAD OR WHATEVER AND THEY MET. And then I wrote some crap.
So yeah. Crapperific writing under the cut.
He merely catches her eye, but that's enough. It's more than enough. The body is different, but he knows her. He knows that scent. The scent of battles fought and won, civilisations created and brought to their knees at the mere flick of a wrist. Of a creator, a designer. Of his brother.
Of someone who died several centuries ago. Hidden under the scent of freshly washed hair and lavender perfume. Faint but still there, so very unmistakeable.
There's a pause. A moment's hesitation as if he doesn't know what to do before he turns on his heels. Burning rubber on the sidewalk as he chases her down and grabs her arm as if to scream that she would stop and talk to him. And listen like she never did before.
"Sorry if I scared you," he says cheerfully between pants, half hunched over as he catches his breath. Flashing the bright, charming smile that he was so pleased with this body for as people simply passed them in the street as if nothing was the least bit odd here. "This is probably gonna sound crazy, but I feel like I've met you before."
Her reply is a broad smile, broad and warming save for the mirthless look in her eyes, and they both know at this instant that they've found who they're looking for. "No- no. It's not-- I thought you looked familiar, but I didn't want to seem crazy or anything."
So many false smiles, he can feel the bile rising in his throat. "I know a good place, if you wanna catch up?"
The walk is long, tiring. A journey undertaken in stiff silence, but worth it for the privacy. Not that either of them have any idea of what to say when they arrive. Taking time in contemplation, trying to figure out just how to approach this subject that neither of them have ever prepared for. He decides soon enough, however, that maybe now is not the time for tact. Better, perhaps, to just get straight to the heart of the matter.
"You're dead."
"I'm not."
"I killed you."
"I remember."
"... How are you--"
"-- I don't know."
Silence. Broken as he chokes back a small sob, forlorn and awash with guilt. Confused in ways he'd never once imagined possible. He looks to her, brows furrowed and eyes pleading, though for what, he's unsure.
"Brother, I..." He starts and trails off, unsure of what to say. What he can say. How could he even begin to make amends for what he'd done?
"Shhh, brother. None of that." She smiles up at him brightly, "I don't blame you, not anymore."
It hurts. It hurts so much more than anything he'd ever experienced, and he doesn't know how to handle it. Has no idea if it's good or bad and all he can find in himself to do is lift a hand to his chest, because this heart feels as though it could burst at any given moment.
"I was angry. I was so, so very mad. I believe I swore to destroy every last relic bearing any of your names." She caresses his cheek tenderly, lightly, and gently directs his movements so that his face may be level with hers. So she may look him in the eye and tell him, "Brother, I understand. I understand now, and I am so very sorry." She smiles with the purest expression that so few can manage, and he has to wonder if she chose this face for that very purpose as she tiptoes to kiss him softly on the forehead.
"You picked a tall vessel this time."
He pauses a moment, and can't help but laugh at that. Laugh through the tears and the croaks in his voice, "or perhaps you chose a short one."
And then I ran out of ideas.
LONG STORY SHORT. So, I have my ascoltare account, right? And then I had this idea and registered a prevedere account to go with it the other day, even though lol I can't play them myself on account of being satan's brother from another mother, and Nico's history kind of banks on them being dead, so.
And then, TO SHORTEN THIS FURTHER, I had this idea of WELL WHAT IF GODDUDE CAME BACK FROM THE DEAD OR WHATEVER AND THEY MET. And then I wrote some crap.
So yeah. Crapperific writing under the cut.
He merely catches her eye, but that's enough. It's more than enough. The body is different, but he knows her. He knows that scent. The scent of battles fought and won, civilisations created and brought to their knees at the mere flick of a wrist. Of a creator, a designer. Of his brother.
Of someone who died several centuries ago. Hidden under the scent of freshly washed hair and lavender perfume. Faint but still there, so very unmistakeable.
There's a pause. A moment's hesitation as if he doesn't know what to do before he turns on his heels. Burning rubber on the sidewalk as he chases her down and grabs her arm as if to scream that she would stop and talk to him. And listen like she never did before.
"Sorry if I scared you," he says cheerfully between pants, half hunched over as he catches his breath. Flashing the bright, charming smile that he was so pleased with this body for as people simply passed them in the street as if nothing was the least bit odd here. "This is probably gonna sound crazy, but I feel like I've met you before."
Her reply is a broad smile, broad and warming save for the mirthless look in her eyes, and they both know at this instant that they've found who they're looking for. "No- no. It's not-- I thought you looked familiar, but I didn't want to seem crazy or anything."
So many false smiles, he can feel the bile rising in his throat. "I know a good place, if you wanna catch up?"
The walk is long, tiring. A journey undertaken in stiff silence, but worth it for the privacy. Not that either of them have any idea of what to say when they arrive. Taking time in contemplation, trying to figure out just how to approach this subject that neither of them have ever prepared for. He decides soon enough, however, that maybe now is not the time for tact. Better, perhaps, to just get straight to the heart of the matter.
"You're dead."
"I'm not."
"I killed you."
"I remember."
"... How are you--"
"-- I don't know."
Silence. Broken as he chokes back a small sob, forlorn and awash with guilt. Confused in ways he'd never once imagined possible. He looks to her, brows furrowed and eyes pleading, though for what, he's unsure.
"Brother, I..." He starts and trails off, unsure of what to say. What he can say. How could he even begin to make amends for what he'd done?
"Shhh, brother. None of that." She smiles up at him brightly, "I don't blame you, not anymore."
It hurts. It hurts so much more than anything he'd ever experienced, and he doesn't know how to handle it. Has no idea if it's good or bad and all he can find in himself to do is lift a hand to his chest, because this heart feels as though it could burst at any given moment.
"I was angry. I was so, so very mad. I believe I swore to destroy every last relic bearing any of your names." She caresses his cheek tenderly, lightly, and gently directs his movements so that his face may be level with hers. So she may look him in the eye and tell him, "Brother, I understand. I understand now, and I am so very sorry." She smiles with the purest expression that so few can manage, and he has to wonder if she chose this face for that very purpose as she tiptoes to kiss him softly on the forehead.
"You picked a tall vessel this time."
He pauses a moment, and can't help but laugh at that. Laugh through the tears and the croaks in his voice, "or perhaps you chose a short one."
And then I ran out of ideas.