strikingly-rhys

[strikingly-rhys]

Didn't have to say that out loud for me to know that, Envy.

I will refrain from asking why that was even an option. The witches are ready, at least those that are willing to participate.

I know a simple text message would've done the trick, but I'm a dramatic asshole who can't help himself.

We're going through with the resurrection spell. Just waiting on your end.

[strikingly-rhys]

It would be a long road to come to terms with the fact that even if he gets his sister back, there would always be a gaping wound inside of Rhys that would never be fixed– even with how much Uriel said it would get better. Happiness was a farce, a fantasy, a made-up myth to placate those unhappy with their life and trajectory. He was a realist, though, and knew that maybe there was never a time he was truly happy; he was just happy with the people in it, and once that was stripped away from him, there was nothing left except for skepticism. Rhys only nodded, having no energy to push the other away– ignoring that he didn't want to. "No, you are far more observant than most, but knowing what I must do and seeing it are two different things." Rhys knew the lengths he would go and had come to terms with that since the moment the curse had taken place, but knowing that someone from his childhood who held such hopes that he could return to who he was before Celeste was taken was watching? It was too much on his plate, introducing the small feeling of doubt he couldn't risk having. A look of surprise flickered across the First Son's face with the movement of his hand to now rest against Uriel's cheek; the action too short to react to, feeling Uriel's skin brand against his fingertips before he was gone completely, stepping away and creating a fissure of distance. Before Rhys could even open his mouth to speak, deny, or complain about anything, El dropped a bomb on him that he should have expected coming but still took him by surprise. The two had been dancing around one another - tiptoeing the line delicately until they separated and where Rhys was too... nervous to go back to, yet it was laid out in black and white. "You love me," Rhys echoed, his hand dropping to his side in a closed fist to conserve Uriel's warmth before he fell silent, eyes dropping to the floor between them. "An eternity is a long time, Uriel, and I don't think you should keep going with this. I don't... know if I can ever give you what you need or deserve. It's not fair to you."

Weakness was all about perspective, Uriel understood how anyone and especially Pandora's own son would consider her actions as of late a weakening of who she was as the First Witch, but he didn't need to proclaim that the mercies she displayed were mercies even Celeste can be proud of. "It's okay if you don't know. The point is, you won't be on your own when you do figure it out." Rhys was stubborn and guarded, they both were in their own ways, but Uriel wasn't given the heavy weight of a renowned title as the First Son. The infamy came with its own trials and tribulations, the expectations sometimes forcing the man to be something he wasn't often. The calm and collected, the level-headed leader who required a cap on his overwhelming emotional state. He witnessed the struggles watching the First children train for the day they would take over the coven, knowing his two best friends were on the cusp of greatness as his leaders. El imagined the life he'd have at Rhys' side however that would've panned out, but Celeste's kidnapping and death ripped apart the chance. "Despite what you believe, Rhys, I'm not oblivious to what will happen with the coven. I know what that resurrection spell will take." Uriel's gaze fell upon the hand pressed to his chest, raising Rhys' palm briefly to cup to his own cheek before Keilah's advice came to mind. No more dancing around the bush. "Yet, both the old and this new Rhys continue denying what I believe they want." The witch gently released all contact and took a small step backwards, breathing a sigh before the words came, "You confirm I'm a soft spot, but you don't say the reasons. I spent those years at your side thinking you could see me as nothing more than your sister's best friend. Thinking I was doing something wrong, that I wasn't right for you. The kiss happened, our moment, and it's as if everything in my life became clear what I wanted. You can keep pushing me away or pull me close, Rhys, it doesn't matter what dance we do." El breathed another exhale, no turning back now. "I love you. I have always loved you and I will continue to for my eternity."

[strikingly-rhys]

It was so close that Rhys could taste it. The coven was back under his control, those who stood against his family's name no more, and his sister alive and well once more, taking their place as was intended. Things were finally, finally, returning to normal. Taking the bottle with a nod, the First Son followed suit to take a swig of his. An almost celebratory toast. Rhys nodded along to Kai's explanation; having someone who knew the modern-day coven running the ground beside him made sense. "Solid plans," Rhys responded finally, "I agree. I don't want to be one to take away the right of revenge, so your foster parents are all yours– just do me a favor and make them suffer before snuffing out the life from their eyes."

"We fuck the coven over and we get your sister back. We've always had an understanding, Rhys, we aren't so different if you think about it. And I can't say that about many people." Kai pushed off from the table and yanked open the refrigerator, pulling out two beer bottles and setting one in front of Rhys before cracking open his own and taking a swig, "Being an enforcer gives me a little insight on their defenses. You need a second-in-command who knows the ins and outs of the coven from every corner, including their weakest spots in the security system. I know the best points of entry like the back of my own fucking hand, so I'll get you and the others in." The witch lifted a shrug, "As long as you leave my foster parents to me, you and I will make a dynamic duo. Agreed?"

[strikingly-rhys]

We didn't even try, you folded like someone undeserving of the title First Witch when you have always been more. We all are, and yet you're still choosing to protect them. The Princes didn't protect her– they let her rot. I don't care about the Romeo and Juliet love story that my sister supposedly had. Why do you continue to side with them?

As powerful as you think we may be as a family, Rhys, there is no telling if we truly would not have fallen ourselves facing the King with just us three as a collective. If the Princes did not survive, then we wouldn't see any hope of gaining your sister back, but that's not the only reason they deserved to live. If you are angry at me, dear, then don't take this out on them. We already ended one war, I am begging you not to start another. Please, Rhys.

[strikingly-rhys]

The witch wanted to argue Uriel's words, say that his mother was indeed weak, becoming a shell of who she was when, in reality, he was the confused one. Rhys knew this, but all he could rely on was the fight, his anger, and his revenge. Anything else was too confusing to come to terms with, like his mind was too broken to wrap around the implications that the First family was wrong. "I don't know how," he finally responded, voice distant like it almost hurt him to admit it. Rhys was the First Son– he didn't admit shortcomings or faults, and everything was done with intention, but it simply never was that way with Uriel. He was always forced to face the things no one else prompted in him when he was in the presence of the other witch. His gaze moved from Uriel's face to where their hands were connected over El's chest, feeling the slight change in his heartbeat. Rhys frowned, both at what he felt and at Uriel's words. Things were starting to add up to something that shouldn't exist between them with so much time past, wouldn't exist in their future. Not with what he had to do next. "Maybe you shouldn't have come back. You'll hate what I need to do to the coven to get Celeste back." It was something that even Rhys of old never thought himself truly capable of. He and Celeste were both powerful in their own right, but he was always the outwardly dangerous sibling. The one that could kill without barely a thought, needing to suppress himself so he didn't snap on unsuspecting coven members, but even this... a complete annihilation of men and women to get enough power for a resurrection? Sure, it wasn't just him along during the siege, but it was him leading the charge. Every death hung on his shoulders. "Maybe you'll see that Rhys again one day, but it won't be anytime soon. Not yet, if ever, but I guess we both share that you are a soft spot."

Normally, Uriel would be a little more hesitant undressing the witch if others were present in the room, but this was a private moment between two people with a long history of the back-and-forth game. His push and Rhys' pull on a constant cycle that even in his absence, they were picking up right where they left off. "Her change of heart is not a weakness. I know you're exhausted, Rhys, I know this anger you've been carrying seems as if it is sucking the life right out of you. You cannot fully experience the happiness until you give yourself the permission to feel it." El's fingers slowly fanned along the back of the male's hand, his heart skipping a beat from the close proximity. His body betrayed him, no doubt, how much he missed having Rhys in his world. The foolishness he can successfully run from the problems, from his feelings, and the family he left behind. "I can pretend that the whispers something big was about to happen in the city were why I returned, but you were the only reason I came back." The witch confessed. "I don't hate you, Rhys. I could never hate you." I think I'm falling for you. Those were the unspoken words Uriel couldn't bring to his lips. "You are the same First Son I knew somewhere deep down through the rage. I see it in your eyes, I feel it in your touch. It's in the fact that you haven't told me to leave."

[strikingly-rhys]

Rhys was aware of the intimacy this would appear to have on anyone outside of the two witches; in a way, it was more than that to him. It was like Uriel was stripping his armor away from his body and cracking the anger that shielded him like a shell until only the exhaustion was left, and he was weary. "She's my mother, and I no longer know who she is. Maybe all I want is the anger, I don't know what else I would have without it. I'm tired, El. It's like my world is falling apart again when I'm supposed to be happy– I'm so close to having my sister back again, yet everything is turning on its axis." Did he think about it? Somehow, exchanging his life for his sister if the Devil would allow it? Sacrifice himself so that his sister could remain unchained in the mortal realm? After all, in his mind, he was better equipped to handle the darkness that Hell carried, but he would have been consumed where his sister survived as long as she could. "You act as though I'm the only thing keeping you alive when you're the one that was gone for so long." His eyes slipped closed, feeling the steady rhythm of Uriel's beating heart until he could look at the witch again; brows furrowing. "I don't understand you, El. You should hate me or, at the very least, look at me with some sort of disgust. I'm some sort of twisted version of myself, and yet you still look at me like I'm the same First Son you knew. I don't even know who he is anymore."

Stripping him down was certainly a new venture Uriel never thought he'd have the chance to do, but he saw this as the other slowly letting him in instead of outright dismissing him from his life. El recalled what Ezekiel told him, do not allow Rhys to push him away. "I do not know what her reasons would have been lying to you, but I think for her, knowing you is knowing herself. Knowing your abilities and the anger that's festered over too many years. It isn't fair she would be walking on eggshells around her own son, but I'd understand from knowing you. That doesn't mean the rage is all there is to you, Rhys." Uriel removed the chest plate after unlatching the bindings and maneuvered to Rhys' side, grabbing the piece it had been attached to against the male's back. Setting both pieces down, he moved to stand before Rhys again, his hand ever gently brushing the other's as he maneuvered. "We would have Celeste back, yes, but then I would lose you. Rhys, I will stand at your side, fight as you take your coven back for good. Prove it like you need me to, but I'd lose my fucking mind if you died for revenge." El reached over and took the witch's hand, placing it over his heart, "Give yourself something to live another day for. Fight for me."

[strikingly-rhys]

I don't get it. I don't understand how our success would have been contingent on their lives. We are the Firsts– princes living or dying shouldn't have been even part of our success plan. Since when did we grow so weak that we needed them.

I am sorry that I didn't come to you about it, Rhys, but we were running out of time. Losing the battle against the King would've been inevitable if I didn't break the curse quickly.

[strikingly-rhys]

Get used to crushing skulls because you're right: coven's next. Then we get my sister back.

I haven't felt that good crushing a skull in a long time. The coven's next, am I right?

[strikingly-rhys]

It wasn't lost on him that each piece that Uriel took off his armor and gently placed aside mirrored him– chipping away at the anger until only his fragility was left, except he couldn't allow that. The anger and hate were all that Rhys had– he didn't know who he was without it. "She used my blood, and she lied from the beginning. I wouldn't have judged not giving the King or Princes a loophole. They didn't deserve the kindness of one– but she lied to me." He didn't know what he was angriest about anymore, his anger splitting off into so many different directions, but it was starting to lean towards the fact that the one person who was supposed to have his back throughout the years never did. Rhys didn't bother confirming that Uriel was correct; he merely listened to him as he spoke his sage advice, even though he knew it was coming. "Dangerous, but it's the only option I know, El," he finally replied, flexing his hands and arms once they were out of the stiff armor. "I died a long time ago, but at least if anything is to happen to me, you'll have Celeste back. Nothing compares to having her back."

Uriel has never seen the Firsts in their battle gear, so even the First Son allowing him to aid in removing it felt like a tremendous honor a select few were given. And it is not as if the two didn't trust each other enough, but this seemed...personal. intimate. Setting the other gauntlet with his twin, the witch ceased his movement for a brief moment as their gazes locked, "The Princes. I don't blame you for still blaming them and I'm not judging your anger at your mother for breaking the curse. She should've told you first." El worked on the vambrace of each arm, deciding to remove everything in order as he saw it. "What's your plan then after they have their use bringing Celeste back? The might of your coven against fully charged up demons? I know you know how dangerous that is." He finished the armor covering the arms before fiddling with the chest plate, "Don't die for this, Rhys. Not saying you will, but I worry about you even when you prefer I didn't."

[strikingly-rhys]

He would have had a clever quip if he had the energy, but he didn't. Instead, Rhys resigned himself to watch Uriel as he analyzed his armor, finally settling on a piece to take off first. Never had he ever let anyone assist him in removing his armor– yet this was El, the chink in his armor, Rhys' weakness. Rhys raised a brow at the question, finally pulling his eyes away from Uriel to look at anything but the other witch, shrugging. "You know me, Uriel, at least enough to guess what's bothering me," he bit out after a while, his dark eyes finally flicking back to El again, "there's nothing new to talk about."

"You're not a dick of a First all the time." Uriel took in the state of the First Son, a breath nearly hitching in his throat at the state of Rhys' armor, white in color if it weren't for the blood of...he didn't know what. His eyes bounced from the armor's chest plate to the discarded cape before deciding on starting small. El stepped forward and reached out a hand for the witch's wrist, raising it slightly so he can begin unbuckling the straps of the gauntlets. As he slightly worked on one side, he cast his gaze up after a silent moment. "Something more is bothering you, Rhys I know it is." Uriel slid off the cuff and placed it aside before moving to unbuckle the left. "Do you want to talk about it?"

[strikingly-rhys]

I do admit, it was a pretty good battle.

Well, that was literally a bloody good shit show.

Good fucking riddance.

[strikingly-rhys]

Sorry to disappoint.

You didn't even talk to me before you did it. You didn't even tell me there was no loophole and I helped you make the damn curse. I doubt you're even sorry.

I thought you would be at least a fraction less grumpy.

I'm sorry, Rhys. I had to break it.

[strikingly-rhys]

"Comes with the territory of being a raging dick of a First."

Rhys raised a brow at Uriel's question, his gaze dropping to his bloodied armor, the white of the plates barely visible. Generally, after a large fight, he would just crash in his armor and remove it once he was more lucid. While he was tired this time, it wasn't bodily but mentally. Too many things happening at once that he couldn't process. "Knock yourself out," the First Son muttered after a time, ripping the cape from the top of his pauldrons and tossing it to the side to be picked up later.

You sound very unimpressed, but I guess you're used to the blood and guts.

Do you need any help getting out of that get-up?

[strikingly-rhys]

At least you're in a spectacular mood.

I am certain I will be washing demon blood from my hair for weeks.

Nevertheless, it is done.

[strikingly-rhys]

It was just about what I expected when it comes to fighting demons.

This is the point where I'd just say great teamwork, but that was...a lot.

[strikingly-rhys]

"Changing for the better doesn't reverse what they did or how I've felt most of my life." Rhys was now alive longer with the hatred burning in his veins than there was a time in which the hate wasn't present– a constant painful reminder that he'd now lived hundreds of lifetimes longer than his sister, who deserved to live more than him. The pure and kind-hearted sister with a hidden bite. His equal and opposite. If he didn't have this anger to hold onto, an enemy to face, then what was he supposed to do? "I'm not afraid of being a villain. All I want is to return my coven to the way it should have been and restore the balance no matter the cost– everyone around me has forgotten that when it comes to the Princes. If Celeste can't understand that, then she's not the sister I thought she was." Rhys' gaze cut away from Uriel as he spoke of the moment– a moment that even he couldn't forget, but it was a distraction, and he couldn't afford it. His hand moved to rub absently at his chest where the amulet that matched Celeste's would usually sit had he not thrown it away in anger. "You can't imagine your life without it, and I can't imagine myself with it," he finally replied quietly before he finally turned his gaze back to El once more, brows furrowed sadly, "I knew something was wrong with Celeste before she was taken– could feel it. Instead of confronting her about it and helping her with her issue, I allowed myself to be distracted. You're a distraction, Uriel."

Your parents made their choices, they have their faults, but they are changing for the better. Your father came back and your mother, well, she's trying to atone for her anger and her acts of revenge. And if they don't stay out of your way? Rhys, you cannot possibly tell me this obsession slaughtering the Princes won't make you into the villain. That Celeste will tolerate watching her brother destroy himself as he did centuries prior. Fine, though, if you want me to prove it and do so with action since you're so hellbent on doing something, then I will tell and show you. Days before Celeste was taken, you and I shared a moment while I was dropping off her spell book, do you remember that? I thought about that moment a lot and we both know it had nothing to do with seeing who could win the challenge. I wanted something I knew I shouldn't because I thought it would disappear eventually if I didn't hold up to standards. And now I cannot imagine my life without it.

[strikingly-rhys]

Being the First Son came with the territory of everyone wanting his attention at all times, to the point that he could hardly walk the streets without being accosted for some reason or another. His sister was far more elegant with the constant badgering than Rhys was, her temper having a longer fuse than his, but he still held his own, contributed to the coven plights, and even took over some aspects of leading that he excelled at. Yet the one person he sat in front of now, whom he realized he wanted to bug him, never did. However, it wasn't lost on him that he could feel eyes on him when they were in the same room, which was quite often with how much the other lingered. At the beginning of Uriel's friendship with his sister, Rhys didn't know what to expect, didn't know if Uriel was somehow sizing him up, comparing his leadership to that of his sister; he never realized that the other witch was looking merely because he wanted to. How things could change so quickly just because of a failed meditation attempt and a biscuit. Funny enough, any sort of change revolved around food when it came to the other witch. Rhys couldn't help but give a lopsided grin at the intake of breath he heard coming from Uriel, raising a brow as the other continued to speak. "Maybe I can't deny anything, maybe I can. I guess we'll have to see," Rhys managed to say before the words tapered off, taken aback by El's movement, his own eyes never moving away from the other witch's face as he touched him so casually. It was unexpected; no one dared unless it was for rituals or he instigated. This, though… wasn't unwelcome, leaving tiny goosebumps in the wake of Uriel's fingertips. "How about we start with this," the First Son finally replied, reaching a hand to trail Uriel's jaw lightly with his fingers before moving to rest on the back of the witch's neck, taking no time before guiding their lips together.

Uriel was in no way a prude who fumbled his way through any flirty edge the conversation takes. He would casually date within the coven, offering a few lovely evenings of the children his own age that other members pushed in his general direction. Mothers who believed he and their daughters made a perfect match or the fathers thinking their sons could rise the ranks by dating someone with a personal connection to the First Family. They meant well, but Uriel found himself always glancing Rhys' way if they were stuck in a room for coven meetings. Pondering the little things, what happened if their hands touched or their lips. A foolish fantasy distracting him from the chatter that arose from the collective of voices expressing witchy concerns. The train of this topic was veering off the rails and diverted past discussing a biscuit preference, but it could lead them at a point of no return. And if what happened next offered him and Rhys something that was straight out of a dream? He could not stop. "I've been renowned for my hearty appetite when the hunger strikes." Uriel sucked in a deep breath as Rhys leaned even closer, offering him the clearest view of the witch's complexion than he ever had. "I think we both know there will be a next time, First Son, you can't deny when you've had your first bite." El bravely reached over a hand and trailed his fingers lightly against Rhys' forehead to brush aside his hair before they trailed along the side of his face, tracing the other's jawline as he leaned in further. "Then tell me what you prefer right now."