#prayer004

[hvrricaneromeo]

spellscar ; noun ; a mark or scar on an individual who was exposed to raw, undiluted magic that has the potential to grant unique and dangerous powers to the afflicted individual.

romeo has never been a religious person. prayer for him has never been about ancient rites, pre-written words repeated from pages, or asking for forgiveness and penance. since his arrival at camp, prayer has been a sense of communion and communication, a means of connection to the king of the gods. his words have been answered, unanswered, forgotten, and remembered. the words returned have been emblazened upon him, down to his marrow.

now, romeo isn't sure what he prays for or why. now, he only asks himself will i still be enough?

he slips away from his cabin and the comforting embrace of those that he loves in an attempt to find solace elsewhere. he need not burden those with the weight of the storm within him, not this time. for this, he must suffer it alone—in a sense, at least. he pays some gold to the satyrs and nymphs of the temple to ensure that he's undisturbed and has had them move a mirror before the statue of zeus.

once inside, the temple doors locked, romeo strips bare and stands between statue and mirror. he turns to look at himself. lichtenberg scars run down his neck, his arms, flashes of lightning pressed into his skin. the strange scar over his heart stands out now, as if empowered by the new markings. he stretches his right arm out, charcoaled fingertips grazing the mirror's surface, color sapped eyes staring back at him.

he sighs.

romeo valiente has never been a religious person, but today he seeks the divine. he bends down and picks up his spellblade, dragging the dagger along left palm, then right and he let's the blood drip at his feet before raising them before the offering bowl. he can feel the divine spark of electricity spark and crackle where the cuts were opened.

another sigh and he begins, a divine man, seeking that which is in his veins but unattainable all the same.

"father zeus, upholder of the good and king of the gods. you, whose wrath is endless. you, whose favor rains upon those honorable enough to bear it. father zeus, wielder of lightning and lord of storms, whose might is what draws together the darkening clouds before illuminating those in truth." the words feel thick on romeo's tongue, nearly hollow. he's not sure how the son of thanatos can pray to his father in such a way. he feels disconnected, carved out like a pumpkin or a lightning burned tree.

he shakes his head, tears hanging like raindrops in the corner of his eyes. romeo valiente has been strong for too long. he has said i'm fine too much and now, alone before his father, he allows the storm to break.

"i'm scared, dad." he clenches his eyes closed before he tilts his head up toward the statue and opens them. "i thought i was strong enough to tap into the storm, to control it and it nearly sundered me. i thought i could lend my power to keep the lighthouse and the seas safe and it took more from me than i thought."

slowly, the son of zeus rises, naked and bathed in the moonlight that comes from the glassed roof, blood still dripping down, down down, flowing over the scars like a crimson river.

"it changed something in me, i can feel it. something missing and something still there, like a phantom limb. i've worked so hard, i've tried so hard to not be a liability to the rest of them." his voice chokes, the lump in his throat forcing him to swallow it down so he can continue. "i don't want to hurt them. i don't want to kill them if i lose control." he's eye level with the statue, eyes pleading, voice a quivering stream of wind that howls in his own ears.

he moves closer to the statue, resting his forehead against that of his father's marbled visage. "once, you told me you were proud of me. once, you protected me from a cruel fate and granted me power. once, invoking you saved me from certain death when the corruption was ready to claim me and my magic."

with his eyes closed, with lightning crackling from his palms and the scars illuminating on his skin in a brilliant, beautiful blue, he continues.

"help me. this...the scar can be useful, it's a blessing and a curse, a give and take. but please, please, please don't make eric right. don't let me become the thing that will tear this camp apart. i want...i need to control it." his voice is quiet, a simple whisper, barely audible. he floats down after a moment, letting his thundering heart return to a gentle thumpthumpthump. he sits before the offering plate, filled with blood and tears, and reaches into his bag of holding. he pulls the crown of the gods from it, a gift from the goddess circe, and he places it atop his head. then, with the javelin of lightning, he dips the tip in his blood and sets it at the statue's feet.

"i am your heir, your prince. i am your storm." he looks up once more. "don't let me be ruinous. grant me the power to protect myself and the others. grant me the power to keep going when i feel like falling." he thinks about how he willingly let himself fall from the test of faith instead of catching himself on the wind, how he would make sure that he would fall with those that had, too. he thinks about how he dove into the river of souls for the people he cares about, even if it was a strange vision. courage, recklessness, has always been something wielded by the son of zeus.

"please just...tell me i'm not an idiot for not wanting to look into the spell scars more and that i can master it. that i have the power to control it. i think i can, i know i can try." he wipes his eyes with the back of his hand, taking a deep inhale before letting out the shaky breath. "thank you for listening to me rant. thank you for believing in me, if you still do." he stands up, pulling on some pants, the marks on his skin still glowing against tanned skin.

"i'd do a heartsong if it meant protecting them from me. i know you know that and i love you for not judging me for risking myself for their sake." his words are nothing more than a murmur, a whisper that fades out.

"i love you, dad, even if i have yet to truly meet you. and...i hope to be worthy. i hope...i hope i'm enough."