#obviously this particular case started with the French but y'know

[rabarbarzcukrem]

The replies on this post about Maria Skłodowska-Curie are a perfect example of behavior people have in mind when they talk about usamericans.

You'd think the logical conclusion to being proved wrong would be to say "ok I see, I was wrong, but now I know better" and then move on

But for some reason they will choose to devote twice as much time and energy to DEFEND their RIGHT to be wrong. Amazing

[illyrianbuck]

please please please tell us all the lore/headcanons you have for the vanserra brothers i know you’ve got a wiggling basket full of em i love them sooo much you don’t understand thank you i’ll be kissing the dirt you walk on

okkk i am sorry this took sooo long to answer but ohohhohohhhoooh yeees yes i do have lot and you dont know how glad i am you asked

the thing with the vanserra brothers is that since so little is known about them anything anyone might think is quite personal and ungrounded in fact and its no different in my case. the way i picture and attempt to portray the five unknown brothers is in a way that i think would fit the so little facts we've got and in a way that i think would make for an interesting and fullfilling narrative within the autumn court and vanserra storyline. i have names, personalities, dynamics, personal allegiances and stances about autumn politics But its all fairly immaginary since there really is nothing to go on.

let's get started then. i'm not going to discuss eris or lucien right now beacause they're...well they're eris and lucien. you know them. I'll post some explainer notes on the drawing later if anyone is interested but the broad strokes are. The second oldest (after Eris) is called Bayard, then the twins Raegan and Enyo, the fifth is Alvar then Taryn and Lucien after that. Also should mention that the name I give to the LoA is Aìne. The is some reason why I chose those names, but nearly not as much as there was when I chose the names for Tamlin's siblings or Thesan's lover's name. Mostly based of the fact that Beron and Lucien are french names, Eris is a greek name and Aìne is an irish name. So Bayard french name, Raegan irish name, Enyo greek name and Taryn irish name as well, Alvar is nothing to do with this m.o. The origins of the name obviously denote where the loyalties lie (except Lucien but he doesnt really count) between the three 'heads of family' Beron, Eris and Aìne.

From what we know, two brothers are dead, one killed by Tamlin and one by Lucien. They are Bayard and Enyo respectively. The reason why I thought it should be them is that it makes more sense to me for the older siblins to have been leading the hunt for Lucien and therefore be the ones to die, Bayard by virtue of being older would have been more powerful so he faced off against Tamlin while Enyo went up against Lucien. I also really enjoy the dead twin trope.

Onto personalities, the little we know is that Under the Mountain Feyre described the four brothers in Amarantha's throne room as being two courties and two warriors. Eris has obviously been established as one of the courtiers, and the other one would be Taryn, the youngest before Lucien. That leaves Raegan and Alvar but I consider Alvar to be a warrior in the sense that I consider Lucien to be a warrior, y'know.

-Bayard: being the second oldest he probably always felt most entitled to fight for the throne. I see him as a violent and angry boy, deeply obssesed with his fathers approval. Not necessaraly intelligent but viciously clever in the way of men who are dangerous and powerful and always have been. Militar through and through, the perfect soldier and a genune threat. Beron's favourite dog.

-Enyo: the more impulsive hotheaded twin. Not as intentionally cruel as Bayard but prone to rage and with a tendency to take things too far. The kind of childhood barbarism boys are expected to grow out of, he grew into. A scary person to be around like most of his brothers but in a particular way. Unstable and predicatbly unpredictable. Something about a temper like a fire that can't be put put.

-Raegan: his brothers enabler. Can be just as bad but only with a crowd to back him up. He's a toff as long as the numbers are on his side, unlike his twin who would fly off the handle the secind he lost his rag. If you get him on his own he can be a sweet boy. After Enyo's death he tries his best to emmulate his brother, who hes made up into an idealized memory in his mind. Means hes acts tougher, meaner, badder than he would have or probably wants to. Grief does strange things to people. He never forgave Lucien.

-Alvar: like his name, he does his own thing. he doesnt want it, any of it, the throne the conflict the hatred. He the kid that covers his ears when the shouting starts at the dinner table. And when Feyre and Lucien were attacked there were only three brothers, because Alvar wasn't there, He usually isnt is he can avoid to be. H doesnt talk back doesnt fight or call any attention to himself. he just does his best to fade unnoticed into the background. We each do what we can to survive

-Taryn: and here is Eris junior. Another pretender to the throne and another true player of the Autumn politic games. Taryn is obssesed with Eris in the way that little brothers sometimes are when their big brothers are cool and do things and seem to have everything under control at all tomes. The problem is in many such cases whenever the big brother ever so slightly slips from his pedestal (as people do, in either a true failure of something perceived as a failure but the little brother) the little borther can feel betrayed and it can lead to resentment and it can lead to hate. And Taryn is a deeply resentful and hateful person. Really all he wants is Eris' attention and to be taken seriously. One day he may understand that attempts on his brothers life are not the way to his heart. Probably.

There is of courseee soooooo much more but this is already fairly long so im leaving it here for now. I'll write some notes on the drawing and post them tomorrow if anyone is interested. And again thats for asking ! i wanna know your headcannons !! Honestly getting messages in my inbox is the only thing that motivates me to draw and actually post, so I welcome it. xx

[lu-undy]

Chapter 31 - SBT

Here it is!

"Mon Dieu…" 

Lucien was sitting on the couch in his dressing room and was drinking water as if he had gone through the desert. He didn't know why but that song and that show in particular got to him and he had lowered his guard. He let the music get the best out of him and it had exhausted him. But oh mon Dieu, his blood was pumping fast and hard in his veins…!

Such a great feeling that was, the simple feeling of life pumping through him… And now that he thought back about the song itself, he wished. Oui, he wished there was someone out there, someone who would be waiting for him after his shows, someone to come home to. Of course Perle would throw herself at him, but what about… a woman? 

Lucien frowned. 

A woman, oui, or a man… 

The Frenchman in his long life and long love resume had let himself be seduced by countless women, which came as a surprise to no one, given his charm and good looks. However, his few encounters with men were more… exotic, for a man of tradition like Lucien. But he had liked it too, differently. The first time was unsettling, but then he came to realise that there was nothing wrong with it, or unnatural. People had just made a case against it. From an evolutionary point of view, it obviously didn't make sense. 

But Lucien had never been on Earth to save humanity and make it last in time, non. As a young man, he liked to take advantage of his good looks. He was addicted to that ego boost he would feel each time someone fell for him. It was egotistical and narcissistic but the man absolutely adored the fact that someone would fall in a position where a simple gaze from his ice blue eyes would make them melt inside and out. 

But all that was a long time ago, for when he met Marie, everything had changed. He had become the one to fall for her, and not the other way around. There was something in the simplicity of her manners and the easiness of the life she led. And that was when his knowledge and vision of love flipped. He stopped being the womaniser, he stopped looking at every woman he met with the eyes of seduction, with the flame of doubt in his eyes, a flame that spelt "what if…?" on his very pupils. Non. There was Marie and only Marie. 

He loved her not like a romantic conquest, not like a trophy to hang on his wall, but like a woman, and she made him grow from a single man to a father and a soon-to-be husband, someone who could carry the responsibility of a family on his shoulders.

Lucien drank more water. He had undone his bowtie and threw it away, he also opened the first button of his shirt to get some air. He needed to land from the high of the stage and oh mon Dieu, he could feel the sweat on his brow. He took a towel and wiped himself before throwing his jacket away and rolling his sleeves up. 

A knock on the door interrupted him as he rolled up his right sleeve. He went to the door and opened. 

"Huh?!" He gasped. "What are you doing here?!" 

"Uh, hey, sorry to bother you, uh, d'you mind?" 

Lucien found himself facing M, the same M that he knew was a hunter and a filthy jar-man. It was him, no doubt about it, he even had the scar on his cheek that Lucien himself inflicted… But he was wearing a black suit, he had tied his messy hair neatly away from his face. And there he was, standing awkwardly, his back slightly hunched under the embarrassment and fiddling with his hat between his fingers. 

"I uh… Bugger, it's awkward, isn't it, eh?" Mundy wasn't even looking in Lucien's eyes. "D-d'you mind if I have a word with you?" 

"N-non, wait, do you know who I am?" Lucien asked, not sure whether Mundy had recognised him without the mask. 

"Well, you're the singer, aren't you?" 

Lucien's eyes snapped wide. Mundy did not recognise him but there was no way on Earth Lucien did not recognise the hat, the yellow glasses, the sideburns and the long hair. 

"Oui, I am indeed, amongst other things. Pray do come in." 

Lucien let his guest in and shut the door after him. 

"I am afraid I can only offer water here. Please, take a seat." The singer said as he poured a second glass of water and handed it to Mundy who sat on the sofa. "How may I help?" 

The Aussie looked around. The room was dimly lit, which Mundy liked. There was the sofa, a few clothes rails, a mirror, everything necessary to arrange some makeup and light bulbs around the mirrors.

"Uh… I don't really know how to say this but uh… Argh, I'm sorry I'm bad with words." 

Lucien smiled, he was about to answer that he knew M had a colourful language when he wanted, but decided against it. 

"Take your time."

And Mundy decided he should just spill it all. He screwed his eyes shut, looking down at the floor between his feet. 

"Y'know the letters you talked about?" 

"Oui?" Lucien put the glass to his lips to drink...

"I wrote one."

...and the Frenchman spat out his water. 

"W-what?!"

"I uh, I signed it with my name. Well, more like my initial but it's become my name, M. I guess you didn't really notice it." Mundy said, scratching the back of his head nervously. "You seemed to say you received a lot, eh?" 

"Y-you wrote that letter?" Lucien was astounded. 

"Yeah, I did… Wait a second," Mundy's head jerked back up. "You read it? You remember it?" He asked. 

"I… do." Lucien answered. 

"Oh, bugger." Mundy covered his face with his hand, he was as red as a brick. "Well, I uh…"

"I am quite surprised that it's you of all people who wrote that letter… I didn't expect you to, well, to be moved by my performance and express feelings, no offense." 

"You mean cause I'm a bloke and not a sheila?"

"Oui." Lucien lied. He meant to say he was surprised that the hunter who used jars for toilets could be that sentimental. 

"Yeah, well…"

"What was it you came here to tell me?" Lucien asked. 

"Y-you have time? You sure? I don't want to bother you, I mean, it looked like you were waiting for someone else." 

"Non, non…" Lucien chuckled. "I was merely surprised. And I have time, oui, so please…" 

"Right," Mundy put his glass on the coffee table in front of them. "Uh, I don't really know where to start." He wiped his sweaty palms on his lap.

"Maybe at the beginning?" Lucien said as he put his empty glass on the table too. 

"Right, ok, here we go…" Mundy cleared his throat. "I came to your shows."

"All of them?"

Mundy nodded. 

"At first I didn't come for the show itself."

"What for then?" 

Mundy didn't want to say it was for Duchemin.

"I… I guess I was just curious."

"I see."

"And that time you sang about solitude, well, it hit me hard. I just wanted to ask you, was it all for show or did you really mean what you sang?" 

"You understood the lyrics? You speak French?" Lucien asked, raising a curious eyebrow. 

"No, nah, I uh… After I listened to you, I couldn't get the song out of my head so I went from music shop to music shop. It took me an entire day but I managed to find a cassette." 

"Oh." Lucien was astonished and listened carefully. 

"Then I uh, pff, you're gonna laugh but…" 

"Non, please, tell me." Lucien's calm voice helped Mundy find his words.

"I… I tried to translate it, I asked people to help me. I think I got it mostly figured out although, to be honest, the way that you sang it made me understand the meaning even if I didn't get the words. It was… Pfff, it was something. And now, I listen to it on loop in my van."

Lucien smiled.

"Thank you." 

"Yeah. The cassette is nice but it's a sheila who sings it and uh, it's not the same." 

"How so?" Lucien asked. 

"I…" Mundy blushed and only managed to whisper. "It's better when you sing it."

Lucien took the compliment like a slap across the face. It was surreal enough to talk about feelings with M, but to hear him express his was so out of his mind. It wasn't something the Frenchman had never thought about, the fact that M had feelings. He just saw him like a man in old clothes who uses jars in a very unusual way.

"And tonight, you-you surpassed yourself. I had shivers everywhere and my heart was beating so hard…" Mundy paused. "Do you remember what I said in my letter?" 

"That I was a lucky bastard if I hadn't felt the solitude that I sang." 

"Yeah, sorry about that, I just-"

"Non." Lucien interrupted him. "There is nothing wrong with what you said and I agree with you. I would be a lucky bastard if I hadn't gone through the hell I described, but I did."

"Really?" Mundy's eyes went to Lucien's. How on Earth did all the French men he met have such gorgeous eyes?! Did they all get born like that?!

"Oui, but if you please, I will not dwell on it." Lucien pushed the rebel front tuft of hair away from his eyes with his gloved hand and Mundy felt his stomach flip. 

"Uh, o'course, yeah. I just wanted to say thanks, is all." 

"What for?"

"For… You made me feel things I haven't felt in a long, long time. Each time you sing I… I wish I had someone I could be close to. Each time you sing, you… you make me want to come out of my solitude. It's… I don't even understand what I feel it's…"

"Longing." Lucien said with a smile, albeit distraught, on his lips.

"What?" 

"What you feel. It is called longing. You long for someone." Lucien said, his intense gaze on the hunter’s eyes, through his yellow glasses. 

Mundy looked away and his foot tapped the floor repeatedly, as if he was hammering a nail on the floor, his knee bounced fast.

"Aren't you?" Lucien leaned back and tilted his head. 

"Mh…" Mundy growled. "Maybe." 

"Hey." Lucien put his gloved hand on Mundy's shoulder. "There is no shame to have. If anything, I feel the same." 

"What?" Mundy turned to look the gorgeous man in the eyes. 

"Do you think I choose these songs by chance? Do you think that when I sing them, I feel nothing?"

Mundy had never thought about it and then he remembered the tears when Lulu sang the song about solitude.

"Of course I do. I feel the lyrics directly, I get drunk on the music and I become someone else when I sing, someone who is nothing but pure, absurd, and overflowing sentimentality." Lucien said, irritated. It surprised Mundy, but he listened. 

"It is not who I usually am, believe me" Lucien went on. "It is not who people know me as. Oui, I used to be someone who would take love as nothing more but a game. Playing, I was playing, woman after woman, pfff…" Lucien shook his head. "Man after man, even." 

Mundy's eyes snapped wide. 

"Did you just say-?"

"Oui, even men. I…" Lucien screwed his eyes shut and looked away in shame. "You must take me for an animal but… I have been cursed with it. I can appreciate beauty, regardless of its carnal clothes. Women are beautiful, but I find men-"

"Me too." 

Lucien's eyebrows jumped. 

"I…" Mundy answered. "I can like blokes too, not like sheilas, but I can." Mundy chuckled, mocking himself. "Nice to see I'm not alone with this. It's not something that's uh… common."

"I don't think it is so rare." Lucien answered. "People hide it, in truth. But you too can appreciate the company of men?" 

The spy couldn't believe his ears.

"Yeah. And you'd think it would help, eh? Likin' everyone regardless should make it easy to find someone, someone to… Y'know… To get rid of Solitude."

"Oh, I know too well." Lucien continued for Mundy. "Someone who fills your life, mends the cracks through which La Solitude slithers into your very core, like the thinnest, toxic vapour that she is." 

Mundy looked at Lulu. His poetic eyes were looking at the distance and again, his poetry took the hunter's breath away.

"La Solitude is in fact the most faithful of mistresses." Lucien went on. "She cannot be driven away, you cannot break up with her and she won't ever do it either. The only choice you have with her is to accept her in your life. When she curses you with her presence, you are at her complete mercy."

Mundy gulped down hard. 

"Yeah." He paused to digest what Lulu had told him. "It's insane. Each time you manage to do it…"

"Do what?" 

"Put words on things I live through that I never managed to describe before."

"Have you only stopped to try? Have you tried looking into yourself and naming those things you feel?" Lulu asked.

Mundy stared at him with wide open eyes and he realised that no, he had never tried to do it himself. He had never allowed himself to look too closely inside him, because it hurt enough to look on the outside and see himself live alone, without anyone, without his parents.

"Of course, you never did." Lucien answered himself. "To make that effort asks for a lot of strength, not from your body, but from here," He pointed at his heart, "and here." He pointed at his head. 

"Yeah. It hurts."

"Indeed, it does." 

Silence fell for a moment in the singer's dressing room.

"There's something I don't get." Mundy said and Lucien nodded to him. "You, you sing about solitude and all when you receive heaps of letters from sheilas who'd no doubt dream of spending time with you! Look at you! Classy suit and tie, and all…!"

"And yet, you are the one sitting with me in my dressing room." Lucien said. "No sheila has ever taken up the courage that you are. None of those who wrote letters to me with perfume infused papers and expensive fountain pens ever came close to my door. But you, you did."

"Yeah, I'm the only mongrel stupid enough to do it. Sheilas are smarter." Mundy stood up and headed to the door. "I just… Thank you for making me feel… things. And damn you." 

"Damn me?" Lucien asked from the sofa. 

"Yeah. You sing about solitude while swimmin' in sheilas and attention. You have no idea what it means to be alone, truly alone. No one to talk to, no one who cares about you, or cares if you're even just alive." Mundy took the doorknob in his hand. "I wrote to you because I could write to no one else. I shouldn't have." 

The Aussie left the room and Lucien frowned. He needed to process what had happened, somewhere calm. But first, he needed to sort out some business. 

He put his jacket back on and tried to push the chat he had just had with Mundy far at the back of his mind. 

-- A few minutes later -- 

"Ah! Here he is! The man, the legend! Please, I have saved your seat!"

Lucien sat next to Duchemin at his table. He noticed the woman on his lap was yet again a different one. 

"Will you stay for dinner tonight?" Duchemin asked. 

"I'm afraid my performance exhausted me." 

"Oh, please, have at least something, I wanted to talk to you." 

Lucien had a quick look at the menu. 

"What about?" 

"I am organising a reception next week and I would love it if you could join us. But not as a singer." 

Lucien lowered the menu from his eyes and raised an eyebrow.

"As what then?" 

"Anything you want, it is a masquerade ball! The only condition is that you have to come with a disguise. You may bring a plus one too," Duchemin wiggled his eyebrows. "Whoever the lucky one is, hm?" 

Lucien blushed and he didn't understand why. He had no plus one, if anything, he was the minus.

"You have made your choice, Sir?" A waiter interrupted them.

"Oui, the fondant au chocolat, please." 

"Certainly." And the waiter disappeared. 

"So, what do you say?" Duchemin asked. "Will we have the pleasure of your company?" 

Lucien's mind was away. He was thinking about what Mundy had told him, or told Lulu. 

"I will come with my plus one, my best friend." 

"Oh, best friend only, isn't she?" Duchemin pushed his luck. 

"Actually, it's a he." 

"Oh…" Duchemin's eyebrows jumped.

"Your dessert, Sir." The waiter interrupted them again and put the dessert in front of Lucien. He ate it slowly, Mundy's words echoed in his head and the thought of him enjoying what Duchemin was paying for made him gag in his head.

"When will this be exactly? And where?" The spy asked.

"I will send directly the details to you if you have an address?" 

"The Grand Palace." Lucien answered. 

"The hotel?" 

"Oui." 

"Someone remember this for me," One of his goons took notes. "Thank you very much, Lulu." 

"My pleasure, thank you for the invitation." He politely answered before wiping the corners of his mouth elegantly with a napkin. 

"May I ask, you seem to have been injured on your face, what happened?" 

Lucien had put on a heavy amount of makeup but a few of his scars were still visible. 

"It is my cat." 

"Your cat?" 

"She is aggressive at times." Lucien lied. "We had a bit of an argument and she clawed me." 

"You-?!" Duchemin burst out laughing. "You had an argument with your cat?!" He mocked. 

"Oui, they are sensitive creatures." Lucien answered seriously. 

"No doubt it would feel something if you stepped on its tail, but come on! Sensitive? A cat? It's only a stupid animal!" 

Lucien closed his eyes and took a deep breath that he exhaled slowly, the rage boiling inside him. What Duchemin said about his Perle did not suit the spy but there was nothing he could do about it now. 

"She is not stupid. On the contrary, her emotional intelligence is a force to be reckoned with and I take example on her for that." 

Duchemin burst out in laughter again and slammed his fist on the table. 

"Oh Lulu! I knew you were good with singing but I didn't know you were also quite the comedian! Ooh, you gave me a good laugh, I thank you for that!" 

The spy finished his dessert, his hand clenching on the spoon and resisting the urge to scoop out Duchemin's eyes with it… 

"I thank you for the compliment and the dessert, oh, and the invitation too. I shall start looking for a costume. But for now, I shall take my leave and get some rest." 

"Those shows really do tire you, don't they?" Duchemin asked. 

Lucien raised an eyebrow to him. 

"This is what Music does to me." He bowed and left the restaurant. 

-- Suite 504, the Grand Palace --

"Meow?" 

"Je ne sais pas."

[I don't know.]

Lucien was lying on his bed, his head against the wall and Perle on his chest, rising and falling to the rhythm of his breath. 

"You sing about solitude while swimmin' in sheilas and attention. You have no idea what it means to be alone, truly alone. No one to talk to, no one who cares about you, or cares if you're even just alive."

Oh, Lucien knew. He knew it all too well. That feeling that everyone else on Earth was just an extra in the movie of his life. The air had lost the smell of sweetness and joy that it used to bear and diffuse. Now, it was just bland, sometimes bitter. 

"Meow…" 

Perle brushed her head on her master's mouth. He closed his eyes and kissed her, through her fur, hearing the soft purs. 

"Qu'est-ce que je ne donnerais pas pour avoir quelqu'un à serrer dans mes bras…?" 

[What wouldn't I give to have someone in my arms…?]

Oh and merde, he felt it, the sting in his chest. It had come back. He screwed his eyes shut. Oui. Oui. Merde, here it was. He screwed his eyes shut harder and curled in the duvet, on his side. 

"Merde…" 

He was buried under the bed cover and Perle was purring against him, trying to comfort him. 

"Non… Non…" 

He felt it, the sting in his chest rising to the back of his throat, pushing the waters he had held so hardly behind his eyes. 

"Non!"

He frowned, wincing in pain as the hot ball in his throat constricted him, it had cut his breath and he tried to hold it for as long as he needed for his body to relax again. 

But he was curled in a fetal position under the duvet because he didn't want anyone to see him, he didn't want the air in the room to look at him with pity, he didn't want anyone to know. 

"P-Perle… Pourquoi…? Pourquoi je suis comme ça?]

[P-Perle… Why…? Why am I like that?]

He clenched his jaw hard but the beast he was smothering in his chest fought harder to burst out of him. He tensed, contracted every single muscle in his body, his teeth hurt because of how hard he gritted them.

And the beast won. 

Lucien burst out sobbing. He cried and cried, not smothering or holding back anything. He needed to vent out his misery, his disappointment at himself. He hated himself, he hated his arrogance, he hated his pride, he hated his job. 

His job, spy, that curse that taught him to throw his feelings away, cage them up to release them later. Later when?! It grew on him now, like brambles that clawed into his skin, stabbing him on his chest, his arms, his thighs, his legs. It stung, Mon Dieu, how much it did sting… He felt the thorns rake through his skin, piercing it open and slashing and soon, warmth flowing slowly but surely.

"Pourquoi…?" 

[Why…?]

He repeated, like an old, broken disc, as the waters of his despair soaked his pillow below him. 

"Pourquoi…?"

[Why…?]

He had wanted to tell M that he was delighted, Lucien had thought he had been the only one living through hell for the past ten years. He had wanted to tell him that he too had shared his days with La Solitude, he woke up with her, day after day, ate barely nothing with her, she made all the delicacies of this world taste bland like plastic. She fed him to maintain him alive when he used to savour and appreciate the finest of dishes.

"Pourquoi-ah…?"

[Why-y…?]

He sniffed and went for round two. It had been a long time since he last had those fits of sobs. He hated himself for them and he hated that it felt so good. Oui, in truth, after a good sleepless night of crying, Lucien would wake up as light as a feather. Crying was like a reset mechanism on his mind. It pulled back everything at zero and he could endure again… until the next fit. 

"Pourquoi…?"

[Why…?]

He wished. He wished he had someone to squeeze in his arms, or someone who would squeeze him in theirs. It was unbearable, this forever state of loneliness, it was unbearable. He needed someone, the poor old man, he needed someone. How hard could it be? 

"You sing about solitude while swimmin' in sheilas and attention." 

Oui, maybe he could attract anyone, make them fall for him. But Marie made him see love another way and he didn't want that anymore. He didn't want to see people at his feet, begging for a dance, for an instant, for a night. Non, he wanted to be one who fell, he wanted to feel those flutters of the heart, that warmth in his chest, he wanted the world around him to disappear whenever he saw them, that special person. 

Lucien sniffed and held Perle against him. She curled in his neck and brushed herself on him. He hadn't heard her mewling, crying with him too. Non, his sobs were too loud. He closed his eyes, his cheeks were drenched, and the vision his mind projected on the canvas of his close eyelids brought him some peace. 

That face M made when he talked about his feelings. There was something strong about it, something pure, something raw. The look he had given him, with his lagoon blue eyes. That man was a surprise like the sweets that Lucien liked, sour on the outside and unexpectedly sweet inside. 

He took a deep breath and fell asleep on that picture.