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xxisxxisxxis · 6 years ago

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Gateway Drug | Part Sixteen

Part Fifteen

Pairing: Douglas Booth!Nikki Sixx x OC

Words: 4.7k

Warning(s): Language, mentions of drug abuse, minor sexual situations, mentions of depression

Tag List: @cierrasixx19 @oskea93 @vamprlestat @sharon6713 @itsametaphorbriansblog @miriampraez @allie-mcginn @rebeccaphillips14 @nicholeh7 @fandomshit6000 @lilmou5ie @tamedhearts @divaanya @kingbouji3 @evrsncnewyork @6ixx6ixx @ratedrkohardychick91 @floregrohlssard @oldschoolimagineblog @thanks2pete @abaldboi @swoopygorl @justjodeye @liith-ium @caos18blog @ytwahsog @shamlessobsessions @scarecrowmax @toadspleen @random-internet-user-4471 @solohqrry @loveofmyloif

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“It’s so good to see you again!” Tommy’s mother is as warm as she’s always been, enveloping me in to a tight hug and I gladly accept it. “You look beautiful as ever.” She assures me, pulling away to examine me.

“We’re sorry we couldn’t make it to your wedding, but we got you something.” His dad says next, handing me a small velvet box wrapped in a pretty dark green ribbon.

I take it from him, and Tommy’s bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“I helped pick it out.” He informs me, the chains and studs of his costume clanking together with his enthusiasm.

I look at him cautiously before taking the ribbon off and opening the box.

Shining silver flashes from the set lights above us bouncing off the thin diamond studded band with a tiny crucifix charm dangling from it.

I pick up the bracelet to get a better look at it and feel the weight behind it. Before I can even ask, Tommy’s confirming:

“It’s real as shit, Viv.” He beams. “Me, Ma and Pop and Athena all pitched in for it.”

“Thank you, Tommy.” I smile, wrapping my arms around his neck, and he’s grabbing at my wrist and fastening the bracelet around it once we pull away.

“Hey, Doc, where’s Nikki?” He asks when he’s done, seeing Doc walk past us. “I want him to meet my folks.”

“I’ll go find him.” Doc assures him softly.

“Where’s Roxie?” I ask next, remembering him mentioning she was here and he shrugs.

“She had to go use the bathroom, I think.” Tommy tells me before offering to give his parents a tour of the set.

I follow behind them, not completely paying attention until Tommy stops and points at Nikki approaching us behind Doc, looking guilty.

“Ooh, Ma, Dad, meet the Sixxter.” He introduces Nikki, the two sharing a high-five as Tommy’s mother immediately hugs Nikki to her.

It’s obvious he’s not expecting it, a slightly confused look on his face but he doesn’t reject her.

“It’s a pleasure.” His father greets him welcomingly, extending his hand to shake Nikki’s.

“Hey, Nikki, we could fly your family out for the next L.A. gig.” Doc offers and Nikki rolls his eyes as he states:

“Great idea, Doc.” Obviously sarcastic.

I furrow my brows slightly, but save whatever questions I have about it for later.

Moving to Nikki, I snake my arms around his waist, about to press my lips to his when he turns his head away and winces a little bit, my lips instead falling to his cheek.

I go to ask what’s wrong, but Tommy interrupts me.

“Oh, guys, I want you to meet somebody else. Babe, c’mere.” He motions for Roxie who’s observing all of this from a corner.

Nikki tenses up, his eyes seeming to be able to be everywhere else but Roxie...or me. As she passes by us, he’s seemingly hiding behind his black hair, and I look between the two of them just as Tommy’s introducing Roxie as his “fiancée”, catching all of us off guard.

“What?” I blurt out, nausea stirring in my stomach.

Nikki’s blatant “are you fucking kidding me” expression is shared with Doc, and Tommy’s parents are even more taken back by the news.

“Nice to meet you.” Roxie states as she forces her hand to Tommy’s Mother, who’s still staring at her son in shock.

“We’re getting married!” Tommy exclaims excitedly.

“What’s the rush, Tom?” His dad asks him skeptically but politely. “Marriage is a big decision.”

“A very big decision.” I echo him, causing Tommy to glance at me with a glowing grin and Roxie to glare at me.

“Exactly.” Tommy pipes back as if nothing’s wrong. “Nikki was out of his mind when he proposed to you but still knew he wanted to be with you forever. And, dad, you proposed to mom the night that you guys met. And she didn’t even speak English. That’s love, dude. That’s what I’ve always wanted. And that’s what I’ve got.” He motions to Roxie as he keeps his arm around her and she looks up at him like a sweet little angel.

Nikki steps away from the conversation, his body heat leaving me as he takes his arm from over my shoulders and starts walking away.

I leave Tommy and his family to their own devices as I go after Nikki, concerned.

“Hey, baby.” I grab at his hand gently, walking fast to keep up with him.

“Hey.” He says flatly.

“Wh-what’s up?” I ask, and he stops and looks down at me.

“I’m about to go get wrecked. If you’re in, feel free to join me. If not, leave me alone for a few.” He cuts to the chase and I open my mouth to speak, but can’t form any words.

“Nikki, you know I’m not ‘in’.” I reply to him calmly.

“I’ll see you when I’m done, then.” He pushes past me and leaves me behind, confused and a little humiliated being that some of the extras working on set just watched and heard our exchange.

He apologized within a few days.

Years later I found out he had screwed Roxie that day and he was being a dick to me because he felt like a shitty husband and was pissed off that I was too good to him because, had I been a shitty wife, he would’ve at least had justification of doing such a thing—which would apparently become a reoccurring theme in the first four years of our marriage.

The only excuse he really had at the time was that we hadn’t consummated our marriage three months in to it...mainly because my “I’m not in the mood” had turned in to constant sleeping and lack of motivation to do much of anything—including personal hygiene on some days. I was depressed, and once Doc dragged me to a psychiatrist before it got too out of hand, I was put on a daily 60 milligram dose of Nardil. Being that it took the antidepressant four weeks to really kick in, that day on the set of the “Looks That Kill” video was the first day I really felt like myself and wanted to be involved again.

The album was released about a week after that, and the band and myself were dragged to hell over it, which didn’t help me all that much, and Nikki actually noticed it, despite his newly found hobby of smoking heroin with Vince, although the both of them had no idea I knew.

To solve the issue of constant negativity from newspapers and protestors and everything else in between, Nikki proposed a vacation.

"I already have everything handled. All you need to do is pack enough clothes for a week and we'll leave tomorrow." Is what he had told me when explaining a belated honeymoon.

"Why?" I asked, blinking up at him from where I laid in our bed.

"The album's out, our schedule's clear for a while now, and we just need to get away for a little bit."

So, that’s exactly what we did.

Rockstar's Wife Attends Church Service Days After Satanic Themed Album is Released

Vivian Sixx (Kinston) was seen Sunday, October 2, leaving a quaint Church of Christ service after nearly one week marking the release of her husband's band, Mötley Crüe, debuted their album “Shout At the Devil.” The cover art of the album features a dark and twisted ensemble of red lettering and an upside down five point star which is used to often symbolize demonic or satanic presence. Vivian's mother and devoted member of the Assembly of God, Charlette Kinston, has expressed her worry for her daughter after it was announced Vivian and Mötley Crüe bassist, Nikki Sixx, tied the knot back in late June. 'I pray for them both. I'm afraid he's going to kill her. He mocks our faith, his lyrics are violent and spiteful and he's going to kill her.' Charlette reported to us when we reached out to her. Despite the scrutiny, “Shout At the Devil” continues to sell impressively well, with tracks such as “Bastard”, recently released single, “Looks That Kill”, and a cover of the Beatles' “Helter Skelter”, with the title track “Shout At the Devil."

I read the article of the newspaper Doc had read in the car ride over here to drop us off before Nikki's snatching it away from me and throwing it onto the tarmac, smacking his gum and staring down at me behind his black sunglasses.

"You don't have insurance." He uses my own words against me with a smirk.

"I was just reading what they were saying about me." I argue with a shrug, stepping up the stairs.

"Nothing worth reading." He replies, popping me on the butt to move me along.

Once we get on Doc's private plane, I plop down in a seat and look out the window.

"Are you telling me where we're going, now?" I ask him.

"I told you, it's a surprise, babe." He gives me that weird devious smile he wears so well when he's up to no good.

"I don't like surprises, Nikki."

"You'll like this surprise." He nudges me and I let out a breath and nod, giving him the benefit of the doubt although I'm full of doubt.

"I don't like tropical locations." I remind him and he brushes it off.

"You don't have to worry about where we're going being tropical." He scoffs out, resting his arm on the back of my seat.

"I don't like cold weather." I add and he rolls his eyes.

"It won't be cold, Viv." He assures me and I purse my lips for a moment.

"Big cities are what we're trying to avoi—"

"Viv." He states, raising his brows, his finger sliding his glasses down the bridge of his nose to expose his eyes to me.

"Yes?" I ask like a little kid getting in trouble.

"Just trust me." He orders with a little chuckle. "I'm not setting either of us up for failure. When I said 'get away' I meant it. Just relax and we'll be there in a couple hours."

Once we land and get off the plane, I'm blindsided by our location.

It's flat ground, and past the gates surrounding the tarmac, I see grassy fields.

"Welcome to Idaho." He pats at my hips and I look around at the completely flat ground around us.

"Idaho? We are honeymooning in Idaho?" I ask him, not skeptically, but in slight disbelief. "Isn't Idaho a bit humble for Nikki Sixx?"

"Where we're going is quiet, population 4,000, and no one gives a fuck about Nikki Sixx or Vivian Sixx-parenthesis-Kinston." He throws his arm around me as we step off the tarmac.

I had lived in L.A. my entire life, so, as you can imagine, a place such as Idaho was a shock to my system...mainly because I had no idea what the hell connection Nikki had to the state, that is until...

"Grandpa, this is, uh, Vivian...my wife." Nikki says to the older man that was waiting to pick us up in the parking lot.

Grandpa?

I'm probably scowling at Nikki without realizing it. I look a mess in my sweatpants and tank top with my tangled hair, and in no way presentable enough to be meeting any important family members, but I make lemonade and extend a hand to the not-so-stranger and he gives me a warm smile and grabs at my hand.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Vivian." He tells me with a slight nod.

"You too." I reply honestly.

He and Nikki pick up our bags, putting them into the bed of a truck.

"Nona's making dinner, she nearly forgot you were coming." He tells Nikki as we get in to the truck.

I want to ask Nikki if his dad or mom lives close to his grandparents, but I'm too anxious to speak openly at the moment, deciding to save it for later.

We're arriving in Jerome, Idaho within a few minutes, and on the outskirts of the town, we pull in to the long driveway of a cozy looking house.

"We're here." His grandfather announces and we get out of the truck, examining my surroundings.

It's flat, full of fields that hold different types of crops, and quiet.

As I'm looking around, I'm being left behind, and it isn't until Nikki whistles at me from the porch that I snap out of my observing and walk up the steps, following him inside.

"Look who I scraped off the road." His grandpa says once we're inside.

"I thought you'd leave us in the dust, rockstar." The voice is soft but holds a presence, coming from a small woman as she leans against the doorway of the steaming kitchen.

His entire rockstar, bad boy, demeanor changes as he completely engulfs her in a hug, chuckling at her reaching up to palm at his fluffy hair, verbally acknowledging the color difference since she last saw it.

Nona was the most genuine, kind, and gracious person I had ever met and she adored Nikki with every fiber of her being.

I didn't know how someone so pure could welcome a devil like Nikki with open arms. Of course to her, even after hearing about all of his nonsense, he was never a devil. He was always that charismatic, driven, dream-chasing, little boy with the poetic eyes.

She's hugging me before Nikki even properly introduces me.

"Oh, she looks just like a movie star, doesn't she, Tom?" She asks her husband, not giving him time to reply before saying, "I have been hearing about you for so long. It's nice to finally have a face to put with the name." She tells me warmly, looking up at me as she pulls away. "I've only heard all the good things, of course." She adds.

"Except for that one time you busted his only bottle of Jack." His grandfather says from the living room. "He had a bitter mouthful to say about that when he called here.”

"Because he slammed my fingers in my car door." I defend myself and his grandmother looks at him.

"On accident." He shoots back with a tiny grin.

It's now that I notice all the postcards from L.A. scribbled on in Nikki's writing and a few of Mötley's flyers from their earlier days plastered on the fridge, as Nona's and Nikki's back and forth turns in to background noise.

"You hush and go get settled before dinner." She finally gets the last word, though her tone is more so playful than harsh, the hint of a smile on her lips that he also shares.

I follow him through the house, down a hallway where the wood paneled walls are nearly completely covered with old photographs. I fall behind Nikki, taking time to look at a majority of the pictures and try to figure out who all is who in terms of relation to him.

Finally reaching the room Nikki entered, I furrow my brows slightly.

The "spare" room seems as if someone's living in it. The walls are littered with posters of artists ranging from Elton John to Deep Purple and to KISS.

There's a few pictures set up on the chest of drawers of a younger Nikki with brown hair, with his grandparents and another with what I assume is a few school friends.

"I was, like, sixteen or seventeen in those." He tells me when he notices I'm looking at the photographs.

"You lived here?" I finally come out and ask him, sitting down on the middle of the full sized bed, and he opens his suitcase and hesitates for a second.

"Uh, you could say that, yeah." He replies flatly, grabbing a change of clothes.

"What about your mom?" I knew he had her arrested or something, but I don't know if that was before or after he lived here.

He doesn't answer as if he didn't hear me, but I know he did.

"Or your dad—"

"I'm about to get a shower." He cuts me short, tugging at my ankle, pulling me down the bed so my legs are hanging off the end of it, settling between them. "You can come, too, if you want." He teases, the palm of his hand running up and down my thigh.

"...Or you could shower and I could probably just take a nap. I'm really sleepy." I tell him softly, my hand covering the top of his and stopping it before he can slip his fingers between my legs.

"It's our honeymoon, though." He doesn't give up.

I take my bare foot and place it on his shoulder when he tries to lean down, stopping him.

"You're grandparents don't need to hear us." I chuckle, his lips pressing to the arch of my foot, before leaning down over me, anyway, my leg slipping over his shoulder in the process.

"We'll be quiet." He argues, his lips brushing against mine. "I can always gag you or something."

"Go take a shower. A cold one, preferably." I state, pecking his lips and nudging him off of me.

My sex drive has been revived ever since starting my antidepressant, however, his sweet grandfather and grandmother's presence is ruining my libido.

I pull myself to the head of the bed and get comfortable, the box fan in the corner on a low setting to whisk away any heat, and drift off to sleep.

When I wake up, the sun's almost down, and Nikki's tugging on a pair of his pants before sitting on the foot of the bed.

Unable to stop myself from shifting towards him, my hand falls on the bare skin of his back, trailing across his shoulder blade as my lips mark up his spine, feeling the way his muscles ripple under his skin, starting at the middle of his back and stopping at the back of his neck before I'm wrapping my arms around his neck and pressing my lips to his cheek.

"Okay, you can't tell me to take a cold shower, and then do this." He looks at me and I furrow my brows, a little confused.

"Do what?" I ask innocently, running my finger nails across his chest.

"You..." He starts, smirking as he turns over and traps me under him, grasping one of his hands around my throat, kissing me roughly.

My legs lock around his hips, the junction of my thighs attempting to grind into him.

"The food’s ready if—oh!" Nona covers her eyes as Nikki and I scramble off of each other like a couple of teenagers caught in the act. “It’s ready. Unless you would like to wait until after you've worked up an appetite." She hints.

I burry my face in the quilt on the bed, heat rising to my cheeks in embarrassment as Nikki laughs.

"Coming.” He assures her a little awkwardly breath and she clears her throat and pushes her glasses up her nose, stepping away from the doorway.

My hand's grabbing at the pillow I was laying on earlier, hitting him as hard as I can.

"Do you not know how to lock a door?!" I whisper yell and he continues to laugh.

Once we get to the dinner table, Nona's handing us both a plate of steak and potatoes.

Except it doesn't look like steak, exactly, and it certainly doesn't taste like it.

"Um, what kind of meat is this?" I ask after a couple of bites.

"Venison." His grandpa replies and I stop chewing, blinking for a moment.

"Deer?" I ask, not wanting to sound rude.

"Mule deer." He says, taking a swig of his Pepsi.

"I soaked it in vinegar and then marinade to get the gamey taste out of it." Nona cuts in, worried I might throw up. I'm worried I might throw up, too, but I manage to keep it in.

"No, no, it's fine I just...I've never had deer before." I explain, looking at Nikki.

He's licking his lips, smiling to himself at my expense and I try to rinse my mouth out with my soda after I reluctantly swallow the piece of meat I'd been chewing, and decide to eat my potatoes instead.

"You know, we didn't expect you to come." His grandfather tells him, wiping his mouth with a paper towel. "You'd called and told us however many times before that you'd come for thanksgiving or Christmas and never did." He laughs to hide his obvious disappointment.

"Yeah...some things came up." Nikki doesn't look at him, cutting at his food.

"No, we understand. Between a wife and rock n' roll and partying with your friends, it's hard to make time for your family."

"They are my family." Nikki states, meeting his grandfather's gaze.

"So, Vivian, Nikki tells us you grew up in Los Angeles. Have you ever been out of the city at all?" His grandmother changes the subject to dissolve the tension forming around Nikki and his grandad and I hesitate to answer.

"I've been to New York a few times to visit our friend Tansy. She's modeling, now. But I've never been to a town as small as this." I admit. "You guys should come visit L.A. some time, actually." I offer, glancing at Nikki to see if he'd be okay with that.

"I've tried to get them to." He says lowly, cutting at another piece of meat.

"We plan on it, soon." Nona tells him calmly. "There's just a lot going on lately with Tom and I and you kids have plenty going on as well. It just hasn't been a good time is all."

"So, tell us about this mother of yours." His grandpa’s cutting in and I hesitate to answer for a moment.

"She hates us." Nikki informs him before I can.

"She thinks Nikki's the devil and I'm going to hell for marrying him." I explain.

"Oh, well..." Nona obviously doesn't know how to respond to that.

"But my dad's cool." I rush to say, trying to save the conversation from going sour. "He, um, told me he bought the new record." I add, remembering the letter I received a few days after the album was released.

"Does he like heavy music like that?" She asks and I lick my lips.

"I'm not sure. I've only ever heard him listen to gospel music, but mainly because my mom doesn't allow secular music in the house." I say.

"Do you like their music?" She questions next and I look at Nikki and my lips pull into a soft smile.

"I've built up my tolerance to it." It's as if I've thrown cold water in Nikki's face.

He was obviously expecting me to kiss his ass about it, and his grandparents laugh.

"Kidding." I do some damage control, gently nudging Nikki with my elbow as he looks at me unamused. "I think he's a brilliant songwriter. And the talent of everyone else's efforts match the composer's."

He rolls his eyes at me and I do the same to him, causing him to make a childish face at me and I mimic him.

"Are you going to school now or...?" She takes a sip of her drink before pulling me out of my back and forth with Nikki.

"Uh, I'm taking some time off." I tell her with a curt nod.

"She got a full ride to Juilliard for ballet, though." Nikki cuts in, taking a bite of meat. “She’s a fucking genius.” He adds proudly and I rub my lips together to hold back a giggle at the way his grandparents look at him.

“Language.” His grandad reminds him and Nikki holds back a smart-ass laugh.

“Why did you not go?” Nona asks me and I look at Nikki, who looks at me knowingly and I clear my throat.

"I didn't want to leave L.A." I explain. “Mainly my friends.”

“Well, there’s nothing wrong with that. I’m sure there’s plenty of other schools closer by whenever you decide to go.” She replies hopefully and me nor Nikki have the heart to tell her I’m probably never going back to school with the way things are going for the band. “...Of course if you have babies, it’ll be harder to go to school and be there for them, especially if he’s on the road and no one’s there to help you.”

I lose my appetite immediately, and Nikki’s reading my expression like a book.

“She’ll be on the road with me.” He tells her. “I don’t care if we have to get a bigger bus for our kids to fit.” He’s certain of it and I swallow thickly, downing a few gulps of water to calm the prickling in my skin.

“I've got a cake in the refrigerator." Nona offers, noticing I’ve stopped eating. “If you want some for dessert.”

"No, thank you. I've had a long day. I just want to sleep." I decline politely and she nods, she and her husband bidding me Goodnight.

“I’ll be in there in a few minutes, babe.” Nikki says as I stand up and I nod, kissing the top of his fluffy hair briefly before stepping to his bedroom.

I stay in my T-shirt and pull off my pants and panties before I get comfortable on the side of the bed I’ve claimed as mine.

Every now and then I hear a car drive by on the quiet country road, and sometimes Nikki’s boyish laughter echos up the hall and crawls under the door to make me smile.

God, I love him.

After about an hour of hearing his conversations with his grandparents, they’re all saying goodnight.

The door creaks open and he shuts it behind him when he gets inside, stepping to his bag to drink a few gulps of Jack from the bottle he packed.

“They fucking love you.” He mumbles to me once he’s finished, pulling the covers back and crawling in to bed.

I turn to face him, getting as close to him as I can, actually enjoying the smell of whiskey on his breath.

“Of course they do.” I arrogantly agree, my voice deliberately holds an overzealously glamorous tone. “Everyone does.” I add and he scoffs at me, causing a small chuckle to leave me.

We lay in silence for a few moments, our eyes adjusting to the pitch dark of the room, aside from the moonlight streaming through the window.

His hand reaches out to graze my cheek, his thumb rubbing over my bottom lip and my tongue darts out to taste it.

A deep breath sucks in to his chest when I do this, and I don’t give him time to think before my lips brush against his.

Just as he opens his mouth slightly to tease at my tongue with his, my teeth are playfully tugging at his bottom lip, earning a faint groan from him as he pulls me up to straddle him.

Hands snake up my waist, making their way under my shirt and along my ribs, his rough palms grabbing at my chest, his thumbs rubbing over my nipples.

Heat pours from between my thighs and I pull the T-shirt from over my head, leaning back to moan out soft enough that no one in the house can hear it.

My lips find his again, one of his hands moving to my throat.

He goes to tug at the chain of my crucifix but I stop him.

“We’re married, now.” I remind him in a whisper, taking shallow breaths. “Sex in a marriage is a form of worship to God.” I add, my hands grazing over his bare shoulders.

“Bullshit.” He says back and I shake my head a little.

“I’m serious.” I tell him with a little smile, pressing a chaste kiss to the tip of his nose.

For once I’m saying something about God that he can get behind: the sleazier and more creative the sex is, the better. For worshipping purposes, of course.

“You shouldn’t have told me that.” He says with a sly smile and I laugh as he turns over and pins me to the bed.

#nikki sixx #tommy lee #vince neil #mötley crüe #douglas booth #daniel webber #colson baker #the dirt

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theonyxpath · 6 years ago

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Presenting “Apple,” written by the inimitable Kieron Gillen, from the upcoming Scion: Origin.

Everyone liked Donnie. They always liked him.

Donnie served the girl her cappuccino. She glanced down, and her eyes widened in delight. Written in the froth, in perfect foam writing, was the word “Brittany.”

“How did you know my name?”

Donnie shrugged a sculpted shoulder. “When you walked in the door, I just looked at you and thought… there’s a Brittany.” He unleashed his matinee-idol smile for a second. “Was I right?” Her cheeks reddened as she looked down at her drink and then, with a calm determination, raised her gaze.

“This isn’t a thing I’d normally do but…” she said, “do you want my number?”

“I’m sorry. I’ve got a girlfriend,” said Donnie, who didn’t.

This wasn’t enough to stop her. She pushed a business card across the counter. “Well, if you ever don’t have a girlfriend, call me.” She gave him a smile that made him suspect she wanted Donnie to call her, girlfriend or not, and left.

Donnie examined the card. Brittany was a model. He could have guessed. She was, by any reasonable standard, beautiful, but Donnie’s standards were far from standard. Even in L.A., where every second barista looked like a sex-symbol-in-waiting, Donnie was something else. A week didn’t go by when someone didn’t try to scout him for one agency or another. When he told them about his life story — abandoned as baby, terrible foster families, all the misery-porn human interest a marketing department could ever hope for — they offered to virtually bury him in cash to convince him to sign.

Donnie always turned them down, much to the annoyance and envy of his fellow model-actor-whatever baristas. That’s not what he came to town for, he’d explain, though he was never able to precisely articulate what he hadcome to town for. The best he managed was that shoulder shrug, his smile, and a vague “It just feels like it’s where I’m meant to be.”

Donnie knew he’d figure it out and, until then, enjoyed the game of the place, the endless stream of tiny offerings, digits he knew he’d never call pushed across his coffee-shop altar…

His musing was disturbed by Martha. She was the oldest barista, somewhere in her late 20s, maybe even edging over the 3-0.

“Hey, Donnie — it’s your turn to close up today,” she said. “Time to see if you can even make mopping look good.”

Donnie locked eyes, then lowered his head faux bashfully, looking at her through a rainforest of lashes.

“Martha, do I have to? I had other plans…” Martha froze, and then visibly melted, but just at the moment when Donnie knew she was going to let him off, she stiffened.

“No, Donnie. You have to stay late tonight,” she said, seemingly as surprised as Donnie at the words coming out of her mouth.

She turned away, before Donnie even managed to deploy a military-grade pout. This was unprecedented. He’d done this job for a year, and was yet to touch any mop other than his surfeit of luxurious hair. He didn’t know why he was doing this job, but it certainly wasn’t for dousing the ?oor with… whatever you douse the ?oor with when you’re mopping. It was only then that Donnie realized he didn’t actually know how to mop. He’d never had to. The normally iron-willed Martha could never say no to him, for obvious reasons. Few people could.

Everyone had always liked Donnie. Mostly they really liked him. In Donnie’s universe, “platonic friend” roughly translated to “friend who is biding their time.”

He sighed. He’d have to skip the gym. Not that that was a huge problem — his friends were always shocked and envious at how little he had to work out to maintain his body — but it was always a good opportunity to gather a few more digits.

Donnie had stopped going by his given name within a day and a half of arriving in L.A. A writer had glanced at his name tag, up at his face, then leaned across the counter to say, “Don’t you think that’s a little on the nose, kid?”

Donnie smiled back and, when the writer had left, googled “on the nose” and realized he agreed.

Ever since then, Adonis went by Donnie.

* * *

While he didn’t necessarily want to repeat the experience, staying after hours had its appeal. Donnie had never seen how the amber light of sunset almost miraculously transformed the workaday cafe. As much as a Santa Monica coffee place could look magical, it did. It distracted him so much, it took until the ?oor was as clean as it was going to get for Donnie to notice the cell phone.

He couldn’t see how he had missed it. He couldn’t see how anyone could miss it. It was gold-plated, wafer-thin, and beautiful. He didn’t recognize the model. He couldn’t even identify the brand until he ?ipped it over, and saw a crisp apple logo. Perhaps a prototype that someone in R&D had left? He scoured the locked phone for any sign of identification.

On the back, there was an inscription carved in its metal casing:

For The Prettiest One

The door opened. Donnie could have sworn he locked it, and was halfway through saying that they were closed before he turned around and momentarily lost control of all language.

In the doorway was the most beautiful woman Donnie had ever seen. He would have guessed she was in her late 30s, but as exquisitely preserved as Greek marble. The business suit was simple, a picture frame on her Mona Lisa. Her hair was arranged in thick braids, a crown high on her brow. For the first time since he was 16 and had met that impossibly lithe Russian gymnast, he felt the urge to offer someone his digits. Back then, the athlete had pre-empted him by passing Donnie his first, but now, Donnie could feel himself reaching for a pen and a napkin…

“I think you have my phone,” she said.

Donnie came around. A conversation. He remembered these. He could handle a conversation. He raised the phone, glinting in the light.

“I may have. Do you have any ID?”

She made the sort of expression Donnie could imagine her offering someone who interrupted a business meeting to tell an extended fart gag. She sighed, and then aimed one inevitably perfect finger at her face.

“I think you’ll find this is all the identification I need.” She smiled for the first time, a cold moon rising on a chill paradise.

Donnie found himself about to pass her the phone when they were interrupted.

“Oh god, don’t listen to her, Donnie. It’s not her phone,” said the new voice, “It’s mine.”

Small matters like how the newcomer knew his name, or the fact that the door hadn’t opened again, were forgotten as Donnie glanced in her direction. She had the sort of self-confidence that could make Donnie imagine her running a gym or a laboratory, or else ruling a library where there was little reading and much pining. She had the sort of looks that made him want to dive into a thesaurus in hope of finding better words to capture them.

She was, without a doubt, the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

Donnie glanced back at the first woman. Actually, maybe not. It was hard to tell.

“My phone. I’ll take it now…unless you want things to get rough,” said the second woman, hand outstretched, “but I really don’t want that.”

Donnie was a half-foot taller than her, but felt sure that in any fight, this woman would kick his ass. If he was pressed, he’d admit that actually added to her allure. But was she more beautiful than the regal business woman? It was difficult to tell but was, as far as dilemmas to consider go, an enjoyable one. He was no closer to a decision when a third voice interrupted.

“Oh, darling. Don’t. It’s so obviously my phone…”

Donnie turned towards the new voice. That it was the third time in as many minutes this had happened didn’t diminish his sense of awe in the slightest. She was the youngest of the three, with neither the grandeur of the first or the appealing threat of the second, but instead radiated lightness and joy. Her smile was a promise: dawn when it was cold, rain when it was hot, whatever you wanted, whenever you wanted it, better than you could ever have wished.

Yes, it was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. There were a lot of them around.

“If you threaten my boy, I’ll make you wish you were never born,” she said, before laughing. “Oh, I’m sorry — of course, you were never born, Little Miss burst-from-Daddy’s-brow.”

“Don’t try to do clever. It’s not your thing. It’s my thing,” said the second woman to the newcomer, before turning to the first. “Why did you never teach this blond bastard her place?”

“Do not be too proud of yourself,” said the original. “You thought it wise to enter a contest of beauty against the queen of all heavens and the Goddess of sex. That third place is the best you can hope for is hardly the strongest argument for you being ‘Goddess of Wisdom’.”

Donnie looked between the three, and then back at the golden apple on the phone, and he started to understand. Three Gods, a difficult decision… and something bad happened afterwards? Paris? Something about going to Paris, maybe? Donnie didn’t think that sounded too bad. Paris was great. Maybe it had rained when they were there?

But the other part, the most important thing: The latest arrival had called him “my boy.”

The first was Hera. The second was Athena. The third was Aphrodite.

And Aphrodite was his mother.

He was a Scion of the Gods. He was a Scion of the Gods, and his blood was a?ame. He was a Scion of the Gods; his heart was filled with an endless choir of boys and girls like Brittany singing for him, and only him. He was a Scion of the Gods, and his name was the accelerator to the world’s pulse, He was a Scion of the Gods, He Who Breaks Hearts, He Who…

In the abstract, Donnie knew what a word like “demigod” meant. The general knowledge was revealed to be as meaningless as knowing the sun is merely a ball of hydrogen and helium. True, but oh so small, so insignificant to the purging incandescence consuming his every part.

He’d always had an interest in extreme sports, but everything paled to this. Divinity was the ultimate high.

By the time Donnie had returned to something resembling consciousness, he was shocked to find his knees still worked. The women watched, patient as only the eternal can be. As he tried to recover a passing facsimile of his easy charm, his golden blood sang a warning song to him.

This choice? This petty, shallow, vain little decision?

It was the most important of his life.

“So…girls. I get it. I have to give this phone to who’s the most beautiful,” he smiled, remembering how this story went. “Aren’t you meant to try and offer me a little motivation?”

They all looked at Donnie at once, equally harshly, then glanced away, innocent. The phone vibrated in his hand, a new message on the screen.

The only gift worth having. Power. Only I can make this world yours. – Hera

Hera met his eyes, dark as a million shadowy boardrooms.

The phone vibrated again.

Strength and the wisdom to know how to use this strength. Imagine your perfection. – Athena

Athena had folded her arms. Her expression implied that if he was considering any other offer, she’d think him a fool.

The phone vibrated once more.

Someone as beautiful as you are, my child. – Aphrodite

Aphrodite winked. Donnie was aware from how the world treated him that such temptations are always the sweetest.

Donnie turned from the women, face hidden from them as he came to his decision. He knew this would entirely define his future. Those he didn’t pick would despise him. He’d have humbled them, and the one thing he knew about these women is that they would never, ever forgive him.

Did he really want to live with this?

He smiled. Of course he did.

Donnie turned back, holding up the phone.

“I’m sorry ladies, but there’s clearly been some confusion,” he said. “You’re all extremely beautiful, of course, but this phone is for the prettiest one.”

He put his thumb on the reader. The phone unlocked.

“This is my phone.”

The temperature in the room dropped several degrees. Literally. A sheen of ice covered the windows, the surfaces of the tables, the badly mopped ?oor.

“You don’t know what enemies you’ve made today, boy,” said Hera.

“Oh, I do,” said Donnie with absolute sincerity, feeling alive for the first time, like the rest of his life had just been a prologue. “I’ve made the best enemies a man can have.

“You’ve got my digits. Don’t be strangers,” he said as he held the door open for the three Goddesses. “Now get out.”

Everyone liked Donnie.

And he was oh, so bored of that.

Scion: Origin and Scion: Hero are currently available for pre-order via BackerKit.

#Onyx Path Publishing

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goddessofphilosophy · 5 years ago

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Dearest Father, I have returned here in our homey abode in New York City. Oh I have missed you so terribly! Please don't tell me that I don't remember you more often since I got married. In fact he makes me want to write to you every single day. Oh Father, if only you know the situation here on Earth. He's right here beside me, soundly sleeping, every inch of perfection, and I just can't understand how my heart flutters when he smiles at me. He collected me from London Sunday Night last week to attend the Opening of the National 9/11 Memorial & Museum and he gave the most amazing speech ever! Because it involves me! I heard you whisper I'm such a narcissist. Well... newsflash, Father, I'm never the humble sheep to begin with. He said so himself I'm the lion. You know what, I have this long list of reasons why he must have fallen in love with me and now it's shorter than my shopping list. Can you imagine? I'm getting suspicious but then... sometimes we don't need words... and you don't have to know that part. We had so much fun meeting old friends and guests from other states. I personally loved catching up with my former clients. I told them it's getting a bit lonely now that my youngest son's already graduating in college (because I presume he might want to just stay in his house in Cambridge than stay with us here in New York City) and they asked me why I never had another baby. If only they know how traumatic my first and last pregnancy was. I have been here for quite a few days now. Mom & Amberleighn are too busy with Fashion Week. They didn't even bother supporting us. And they went to London this weekend for the Burberry Show. I bet they are still enjoying Milan Fashion Week. Annicka has been my companion lately. And before I forgot, I have a new secretary. She is Jane Sheppard. Why do I need a second one, you ask? My husband is apparently on panic mode in case I go back to Syria and get killed by the ongoing war. What he doesn't know is that I also visit Somalia and Nigeria (and other parts of Africa) where I met this peculiar girl we saved from child marriage. Oh Father, it was heartbreaking. Her father had to force her to marry an older man to get them out of poverty. It was terrible! Two oxen, five chickens and a goat in exchange for a little girl's life. And they are not even treated properly after getting married; they become slaves, Father. Why do they have to suffer that much? The United Nations General Assembly will start to tackle feminist agendas to end global problems for this week. That is one of reasons why I have been here longer than usual. I was invited by a colleague. And you won't believe the people I will meet there! In attendance are President Obama, Prime Minister Trudeau, Secretary-General Ban Ki-Boom, and other delegates (some are kings!) of foreign countries, according to my sources. I'm used to meeting world leaders, Father, that's correct but not all of them at once. I should have retired from work sooner if this is how I will live as a volunteer and representative of the World Economic Forum. How about Vladimir Putin? We're still friends. I still want free hotel accomodation in Moscow whenever I get the chance to relax. While I was watching the news though, there was another batch of refugees who drowned in the Mediterranean Sea. Again. Did you hear about it? Oh right there is no television in heaven. But is there like a grand council who decides when a group of people's mortal lives are taken away from them when all they wanted was to survive and escape the war? Is there a black hole in the Mediterranean Sea? Is the Atlantis located there? Come to think of it, their prayers have been answered. They are in a safer place now. Can you tell me what heaven looks like, Father? It had been such a delight to feel your divine intervention, Father. I'd be glad to update you as soon as I get my dysfunctional mind working again. You don't have to worry about me, Father. I have been fighting the same battle for years. If I have discovered a feasible solution to whatever has been bothering me, you would be the first to know but I bet you a million dollars he's going back to New Orleans anytime soon, without even telling me when he's coming back. See you sooner than later! I love you best, Father! Love, Hyacinth Athena Descartes

She retired to bed after writing the letter and gazed at the only person who makes her crazy. How on Earth did she allow this person to make her so vulnerable? Immediately after closing her eyes, she felt her body falling too fast, falling deeper each second. She wanted to open her eyes but she has lost control. After what it feels like two minutes of wandering in a pitch-black wilderness, the warm morning beams tickled her senses. She awoke, wanted to sleep some more but her mind tells her otherwise. Everyone was there, standing inside their huge, high-ceiling living room. They were all waiting for her. She recognized her daughters Hyamidalla Irish, Seraphiel Guinevere and Lucia Henriette with their beaus. Even his bachelor son was present. He doesn't like reunions. Keeva brought all her children with her too, with her husband standing right behind her. The Houghtons are in the far right of Andréas. Then she noticed a young girl who seems to be out of place in this picture perfect complete happy family. "Who is she?" she asked no one in particular. She was taking one step at a time down the staircase and nobody would want to make eye contact with her. "Seems like we have a visitor here, mind to introduce us, Mother?" "I don't think I'm the right person for that, darling." She was surprised to see her late brother among the crowd. He is not supposed to be here with them, he should be in heaven, she thought. But to make it all the more bizarre, he held her hands. He was saying something but she couldn't quite understand a word. She understood though that he was sorry for her. "Is she your adopted daughter, Adrian?" Adrian Yvés is her eldest son. They don't have the most admirable relationship as mother and son but Yvés has always been there for her mother. He was polite and modest with his life endeavors with the exception of its romantic facet. "No, Mother." "Is she your girlfriend, Andrei?" "No, Mother." She had to repeat herself, "Then who is she? Anybody?" Andréas felt obliged to answer her finally, "She's Michaela." "Oh why thank you, hon," she crossed her arms, waiting for more information. "She needs us. Her mother died last week. She's only 17. And she's my daughter..." Hyacinth wasn't prepared for any of it. She didn't want to hear more. It can't be true, she must be dreaming. For a moment there she felt like everybody knew but her. She rushed to the study room. There displayed an enormous wedding photo of a once upon a time the two happiest people in the whole world. Beside it is her portrait wearing her favorite purple dress. Another frame contained their family picture when Andrei was seven. Oh how time flies. This room has always been her sanctuary. The room was filled with good memories of her life-long pursuit for happiness. She met him in that very same room. And it was fitting for the room to witness how it will all end. He followed her, "You have to hear me out, please." She wanted to say, "You have until 4 PM to get rid of your dearest darling daughter. She is not welcome here. This property is under my name. This house is mine. You can't use my Mother to impose her ridiculous traditional values on me about family this time. She doesn't have any right to say who stays here or not. You can't come home to me one day with the evidence of how you cheated on me all these years. You are such a coward for hiding her. After seventeen years, you had the audacity to bring her here, of all places? She is not welcome in New York City either. I have adopted kids before and I don't mind adopting one more if only the kid will not remind me of the biggest mistake of my life. The last thing I want to read in the newspapers is my cheating, lying bastard of a husband having an illegitimate daughter. I will never accept your daughter with another woman. Take her anywhere, I couldn't care any less. Or may I suggest that you kill her yourself, like the savage beast that you naturally are." But she said nothing. She cried in silence. He knew her loving wife has the kindest, biggest heart in the world (not always, but still). She volunteers for the United Nations. She conducts lectures at The School of Economics for free. She donated her inheritance to the International Monetary Fund to finance projects in developing countries and stabilize the world's monetary supply. She has never turned down anyone who needed her help. She made sure all her children and grandchildren has a house to come home to. He wanted to remind her how she adopted five kids and gave them everything they needed and more. So what is the difference of one more? "You are better than this, love." She wiped her tears and turned her chair to face him, "No, I'm better off without you. Don't you dare call me love. I should have always known." He was defeated, "I know sorry will never be enough but let me make it up to you." She was as calm as the ocean after a storm, "You need to sign the divorce papers tomorrow morning, 10 AM, at the law firm. Expect Leah to walk you through all those pages. You are dismissed." "Not like this, please." "If you don't want to leave, I will." She stood up and walked out of the room. He caught her arm, "It was unintentional, an accident. They needed me desperately." Tears started to blur his vision. This is not the reaction he expected from her. He couldn't think straight. He didn't know what else to say. He knew she always wanted the whole truth. She was staring at him blankly. She was too hurt to speak. "Let me go," she huffed. "You're my everything, Icy. I have faith in us; in you, mostly." The words were echoing in her ears. She had to cover her ears from its gradual intensity each passing second. She felt more tears in her cheeks. Andi was being taken by the dark. The ground was shaking beneath their feet. The walls were enclosing them in. It was only a dream. She woke up, catching her breath. It was exhausting. She felt an unquenchable thirst for air and water and energy. She woke up a million dollars richer, too. The stocks market was kicking in again. Oh how she loves playing this expectations game. Later that week, Andréas found Annicka and Hyacinth chatting inside the study room. "Speaking of the devil, he's here." Hyacinth beamed at him, welcoming him back yet again, after four days of not seeing each other. He kissed her cheek, sat beside her on the sofa's arm and rested his arm on her shoulders. "What are you lovely girls talking about? Both of you seem so animated and enthusiastic tonight!" "My sister here is smitten and she wants to be a Canadian," Annicka giggled. "Why?" Hyacinth was delighted to share, "Oh I've met their Prime Minister this morning at the United Nations General Assembly. And I'm so in love with him, hon. He's the man of my dreams!" She winked at Annicka. "Okay?" "I'll leave you two, alright?" Annicka excused herself on cue. "I'm so honored to be sitting in the same table as him in our leadership luncheon. He's so good-looking and the coolest Prime Minister ever! Why don't we get a house in Canada, hon?" She held his hands. He didn't seem to appreciate the gesture. "But you have a house in Quebec, right?" "I gave that to Keeva's friend. The girl won't stop asking for it." "Stay with Lucia. She lives there, right?" "Oh please, I want to be neighbors with the Prime Minister and see him every single day. I can't wait to be best friends with Sophie! He mentioned she's just fabulous!" "I reckon this Sophie is his wife?" She nodded. "Why would you be friends with your crush's wife?" "Why wouldn't I? If you're going to be my ex-husband and you are having a new wife, I'd definitely be friends with her. It reduces the hard feelings." "Stop thinking about things that will never happen." She lingered in his eyes and felt sincerity in his words. Or is that what she wanted to see? Why was she testing the waters?

#mine #andi

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autumn-elwood · 7 years ago

Text

The Reunion

Sorry, this is late. April was crazy.

Also available on: Blogger

Kain couldn’t help but feel bored for some odd reason. He honestly shouldn’t be feeling bored with the number of adventures Cyrus and himself had been on together since they took up the pseudonyms, Castor and Pollux, and joining the cavern of Hermes.

They had made tons of new friends in Eris, Apollo, Thanatos, and Persephone. They had raided a slave auction and dug up objects and tomes from the buried pre-rest buildings in the dunes of the Estival Desert. They had even met up with Lady Alma to make sure she was getting on alright, for crying out loud. Kain was safe from Lord Zafar. Cyrus was safe from Lord Zafar. They got to transcribe books and sell them in Apple-polish market.

Why was he so bored?!

“Um… Are there any titles you would recommend?” a familiar voice queried.

He looked up to see a man with short blond hair and a scruffy beard. He looked familiar too. Had he met this man before?

“Oliver Twist’s pretty―,” he began before cutting himself off, the man’s identity becoming shockingly clear.

“You bastard,” Kain growled, eyes filled with rage.

The bastard blinked in surprise, unsure of how to respond to Kain’s sudden insult.

“Pollux,” he heard Cyrus say with a sharp a sharp warning before making apologies to the customer.

Kain clenched his fists, his anger rising even higher after realizing Cyrus didn’t recognize the bastard in front of them. And even worse, the no good lying son of a bitch didn’t recognize them either. Kain threw a hand in front of his brother in a clear sign for the younger boy to be quiet. Cyrus’ voice faded off and he stared at his brother nervously, wondering what Kain was going to say.

“How dare you show your face here in front of me after what you did!” Kain sneered.

The man looked flustered as he glanced around the market at the stares they were attracting. “Sir, I believe you have the wrong―”

Kain slammed his hands on the front of the stall, cutting the man off.

“How dare you show your face after you abandoned your wife and children to the mercy of Lord Zafar!” he screamed, a mixture of hysteria and anger coloring his words

Cyrus gasped as the meaning of those words sunk in.

“Kain,” the man proclaimed in shock.

Kain slugged him straight in the nose.

Sick satisfaction filled him as the bastard stumbled back and landed on his ass. The bastard let out a short “fuck”. Cyrus stiffened and let out a squawk like he wanted to shout “language!” but didn’t because he wasn’t sure if it was appropriate.

“Pollux, Castor, what’s going on?” asked the hurried and stern voice of Captain Hephaestus. His coat was rumpled like he had just woke up and the goggles on his head were crooked. His were slightly frantic with concern. Were the boys in danger? Had Zafar’s men come for his boys?

Cyrus let out some sporadic unintelligible attempts of explanation before settling with staring at his… father. The father he hadn’t seen for years. The father he hadn’t seen since before his mother died. The father whose face was a blur and decaying photos hidden in the fabric of their suitcase. The father he could hardly remember. He couldn’t believe it: what were the odds that they would run into their father at the stall they were working at, in a town about 60 miles from Zafar’s manor. It seemed so improbable that it was impossible, yet here we are. Talk about a shock you never thought you’d receive. He would be less surprised if his mother rose from the grave to tell him he was pregnant.

He desperately wanted to hug the man. He wanted to run away into the desert and be buried in the sand. He wanted to cry. He wanted to ask him why he had never come back for them. But above all that, Cyrus just wanted to throw up.

“Just an unruly customer,” rumbled Kain’s muffled voice.

“Do you really expect me to believe that, Pollux? You just decked a customer…”

Cyrus stumbled toward the fallen figure. His… father looked up at him. Confusion, embarrassment, and fear were held captive in his eyes but there was no recognition. He didn't recognize Cyrus. He didn't recognize Kain. Cyrus’ vision began to blur and a hot flame consumed his chest.

A series of “I hate you" ‘s forced themselves through his lips. His throat felt tight like he couldn't breathe.

Cries of “Castor" echoed in his ears. A glint of gold light grabbed his shoulder. He flinched away. Gold bracelet- it’s only Athena, he thought in panic. She backed off and started humming in his ear, a surprisingly gentle thing for the stoic assassin. Persephone’s green hair flashed in his peripherals as she wrapped him in a hug. His low moan of “no" and the burning arms disappeared.

Eris was nowhere in sight. Perhaps she was behind them in her dark scarves, twisting her hands together nervously, unsure of what to do. That was for the best in this instance.

A confused and angry murmur rose from the voices of Captain Hephaestus, Apollo, Thanatos, and Kain. His family.

“Why did you leave us?” He wailed quietly.

Kain pushed past Hephaestus and began yelling at their father anew. The Captain wrapped his arms around his brother, barely stopping him from grabbing their father by his clothes and shaking him down.

“Answer him you piece of garbage or so help me I’ll cut off your genitals and feed them to a lion you absolute fuck beaver!”

“Why!” Cyrus asked firmly, trying to pull himself together.

Tears began streaming from the man’s golden eyes.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I came back but As far told me you had all died… That he had killed you. I’m sorry… Please, where is your mother? Where is Amira?”

He looked so pathetic that it tore at Cyrus’ guts. He wanted to say it was okay but… the explanation felt hollow and tasted like spoiled milk on his tongue.

“Liar!” Kain shrieked. “You left us and never once looked back. Mom died and you weren't there. I lost my leg and you weren't there. Cyrus almost died and is permanently scarred all over his body and you weren't there. When we needed you there, you weren't, you were just gone and you don't get to say you're sorry and say you thought us dead, like that'll fix anything.”

“Kain… I’m–"

“No. No more ‘I'm sorry.’ Pick a book, buy it, and get out of here. We don't need you anymore!”

Cyrus violently wiped away his tears. Their father’s eyes looked broken. Kain needn't have been so sharp but he was right. The man needed to leave. It was too late for them to be a family and Cyrus didn't handle having this man back in their lives. He could forgive the man’s actions but he just could not forgive the man. He couldn't. What does that say about me, he thought bitterly, dewdrops trying to sneak from the corners of his eyes.

“Please… sir. Go,” he whispered hoarsely.

”Are you okay, boys?” Captain Hephaestus asked after… Tarea left.

Before either of them could spit out a lie, Apollo cut in, “That’s a stupid question. Of course, they're not okay. Jeez, way to be sensitive.”

Hephaestus flushed. “Well, what was I supposed to say?”

Thanatos crossed his arms, a frown etched on his face. “I don't have anything better but not that.”

“Do you need some space, perhaps?” Eris suggested, moving forward with confidence, relieved the tears were gone.

Kain’s mouth was set in a firm line and his eyes were alight with concern. “I think that would be an acceptable question to start with but I have never been very good at comforting.”

He paused and took a deep breath. “Do you need space, Castor?”

“No-o, Brother. I’d rather not be alone right now.”

Athena gave his hand a tight squeeze and Persephone pulled him into a sidearm hug, wary of making him uncomfortable again. “Oh, honey,” she whispered.

Athena glanced at Hephaestus from the corner of her eye.

“We should close the stall. Head back to the Library.”

Hephaestus turned to the stall in dismay. The novels lay on the ground covered in sand from where they fell when Kain smacked the stall. Kain turned ruby and rushed towards the books.

“I'll pack up for today.”

He dropped down shakily, almost dislodging his prosthetic.

“Pollux, you…” Hephaestus started.

“Let him,” muttered Thanatos. “He needs something mundane to calm his nerves. He hasn't had to yell like that in months. He hasn't felt so in danger in months either.”

Hephaestus bit his lip and nodded.

Cyrus wondered what he was thinking. Captain Hephaestus really cared for them, more than anyone had in years, they all did. The caravan was truly like a family. Captain Hephaestus was like the father with Athena at his side like a mother. Thanks and Eris acted like the anti-social uncle and aunt who really cared for the family but were left confused due to never having had their own children. Apollo was like the cool big brother and Persephone the caring older sister.

Kain and himself were the youngest of the group at 16 and 17. The babies of the family.

Cyrus had never been happier. He finally understood why the group didn't need to tell each other their identities to trust each other. One’s past did not define you if you didn't let it.

“It's time to go home,” Apollo shouted.

Cyrus blinked.

Home.

A home. A home with a mother and a father. A home with an aunt and an uncle. A home with three caring older siblings that would all die and live for one another. A home where it was safe. A home where no one would hurt you.

Cyrus felt a smile bloom on his lips.

“We’re coming,” he shouted, pulling Athena and Persephone up as he stood.

“Cas,” Persephone laughed. “I’m going to kill you.

He smirked at her and broke into a run.

“Try to catch me, Sister.”

Thanks for reading!

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#writing #autumn writes #original #the caravan of hermes #Kain #Cyrus

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