[ no one does. no one knows. though he may have told the heads at camp what had happened, he'd never really uttered a word about the garden to another camper. even with annabeth prying, even with clarisse trying to get him to be like himself again, even with chris asking softly and nicely what the hell happened to him in the garden, he hadn't told anyone. it's only to kronos, even to his mother when he had to steal her blessing for the curse, and percy — though the latter was said more in a lets turn against the gods, kid speech more than it was this is what happened to me — who know he hadn't emerged from the gardens with pride in his step. ]
[ people worshipping the gods when they've done nothing to earn it is a piece of shit to luke. why are they forced to sacrifice to a godly parent who can't even be assed to answer their prayers? worshipping hercules, despite the contradictions in his own stories, only opens the floodgates to reveal how stupid people are for a hero. they all want to believe heracles had completed each task himself. they all wanted to believe he had slain ladon. but luke knows, even if he did, even if ladon went to tartarus to only come back to his perch, heracles was never the type of hero the mortals and even the gods make him out to be. a man of incredible strength, of incredible endurance, he had let a young luke down in the worst of ways by not being brave. luke had wanted to be the type of hero hercules was — and he thinks he accomplished at least that. ]
[ what he did at home matters too much — to the point where he refuses to even speak about it. unless it's some barb flung in the direction of one of his demigods, or even a self-deprecating knife plunged into his chest, the details of the titan war — from his motivations to his guilt to the energy he wasted when he still is warring with himself with the truth percy had given him but hadn't been able to properly process as he refuses to even talk about it — remain tight-lipped and only revealed by those who don't know. clarisse doesn't know. percy doesn't know. annabeth doesn't know. none of them know he still thinks kronos is capable of getting to him. even in death, even in another world, he still hears his voice when he's asleep and he's fearful of hearing it boom around him when he's awake. he's as damaged as his face — and he doesn't see anything attractive about that. ]
[ i don't think it's going to change the way i feel about you. it's on the tip of his tongue to inform her she doesn't know him; she only knows a performance he's put on, refusing to dig any deeper than what's on the surface out of fear of what he will find. it's on the tip of his tongue to tell her about the titan war, of how he had caused it, of how his hands may be quick to thieve but they're saturated in the blood of his family, of how that throne room she had been in in his dream was the last place he ever saw — and he hadn't felt at home. her own list isn't the same — even without context, he can see the reasons for placing a lady in a glass jar, of breaking into a bank, of travelling through time to save someone, of making the most important people forget who you are for their own safety. it's all an act of selflessness or self-preservation, but it's not out of a desire to hurt or punish. any other time, he'd tease her for her slip to see her flush bright pink, but luke can't quite summon the mirth as he cards a hand through his hair before he leaves it there, curving to the back of his skull as his elbows sit on his thighs and the points dig in. he can't evade the conviction in her voice. and he'll never be able to shatter his own refusal to break the truth to her. he likes how she looks at him. he likes how she speaks to him. he likes how she makes him feel as though he's not the biggest piece of shit in the world. elicited by selfishness, he purposefully blinds her to the truth instead of shattering her own perception of him as this big, fat hero when he's always going to be remembered as the villain of the story. ]
[ he will never understand where her faith stems from. it's partly why he wishes to never tell her, or even throw a quip about the war and himself toward her, as he's too selfish and afraid to see that shatter. george and martha remain quiet, even his little fox stops attempting to duck beneath the furniture in a bid to hide from them, but he doesn't hear nor even see them, wherever they are. overwhelmed, he looks away from her, just an easy flicker of his eyes to focus on a golden point in his suite. pressing the heels of his palms to his wet eyes, it's the faith and the unwavering loyalty that he had wanted from hermes that he has been getting from those in the drabwurld. she's been giving it to him in heavy doses since the moment he spoke to her. after wanting it for so long, he isn't even sure how to take it and even care for it once it's been placed in his palms. ]
[ so, he does the selfish thing. ]
[ he looks back to her, guarded, though he doesn't wish to be made of angry marble any more. he doesn't know what to say, let alone how to truly process it or how to feel. all those things he's done for her aren't really anything at all — it's just what you do. it doesn't make him any more special. ] I can still outrun you. [ his voice sounds too choked up to him that he clears his throat. running his fingers against his cheek, he rests it against his knuckles as he looks at the locket. ] But it sounds like you're a better thief than me. Is that list meant to be your least finest moments? The sneak thing's a little on the Cabin Eleven side, but if you're trying to prove the point that I could find you less appealing, you're going about it all wrong.
video » locked.
[ people worshipping the gods when they've done nothing to earn it is a piece of shit to luke. why are they forced to sacrifice to a godly parent who can't even be assed to answer their prayers? worshipping hercules, despite the contradictions in his own stories, only opens the floodgates to reveal how stupid people are for a hero. they all want to believe heracles had completed each task himself. they all wanted to believe he had slain ladon. but luke knows, even if he did, even if ladon went to tartarus to only come back to his perch, heracles was never the type of hero the mortals and even the gods make him out to be. a man of incredible strength, of incredible endurance, he had let a young luke down in the worst of ways by not being brave. luke had wanted to be the type of hero hercules was — and he thinks he accomplished at least that. ]
[ what he did at home matters too much — to the point where he refuses to even speak about it. unless it's some barb flung in the direction of one of his demigods, or even a self-deprecating knife plunged into his chest, the details of the titan war — from his motivations to his guilt to the energy he wasted when he still is warring with himself with the truth percy had given him but hadn't been able to properly process as he refuses to even talk about it — remain tight-lipped and only revealed by those who don't know. clarisse doesn't know. percy doesn't know. annabeth doesn't know. none of them know he still thinks kronos is capable of getting to him. even in death, even in another world, he still hears his voice when he's asleep and he's fearful of hearing it boom around him when he's awake. he's as damaged as his face — and he doesn't see anything attractive about that. ]
[ i don't think it's going to change the way i feel about you. it's on the tip of his tongue to inform her she doesn't know him; she only knows a performance he's put on, refusing to dig any deeper than what's on the surface out of fear of what he will find. it's on the tip of his tongue to tell her about the titan war, of how he had caused it, of how his hands may be quick to thieve but they're saturated in the blood of his family, of how that throne room she had been in in his dream was the last place he ever saw — and he hadn't felt at home. her own list isn't the same — even without context, he can see the reasons for placing a lady in a glass jar, of breaking into a bank, of travelling through time to save someone, of making the most important people forget who you are for their own safety. it's all an act of selflessness or self-preservation, but it's not out of a desire to hurt or punish. any other time, he'd tease her for her slip to see her flush bright pink, but luke can't quite summon the mirth as he cards a hand through his hair before he leaves it there, curving to the back of his skull as his elbows sit on his thighs and the points dig in. he can't evade the conviction in her voice. and he'll never be able to shatter his own refusal to break the truth to her. he likes how she looks at him. he likes how she speaks to him. he likes how she makes him feel as though he's not the biggest piece of shit in the world. elicited by selfishness, he purposefully blinds her to the truth instead of shattering her own perception of him as this big, fat hero when he's always going to be remembered as the villain of the story. ]
[ he will never understand where her faith stems from. it's partly why he wishes to never tell her, or even throw a quip about the war and himself toward her, as he's too selfish and afraid to see that shatter. george and martha remain quiet, even his little fox stops attempting to duck beneath the furniture in a bid to hide from them, but he doesn't hear nor even see them, wherever they are. overwhelmed, he looks away from her, just an easy flicker of his eyes to focus on a golden point in his suite. pressing the heels of his palms to his wet eyes, it's the faith and the unwavering loyalty that he had wanted from hermes that he has been getting from those in the drabwurld. she's been giving it to him in heavy doses since the moment he spoke to her. after wanting it for so long, he isn't even sure how to take it and even care for it once it's been placed in his palms. ]
[ so, he does the selfish thing. ]
[ he looks back to her, guarded, though he doesn't wish to be made of angry marble any more. he doesn't know what to say, let alone how to truly process it or how to feel. all those things he's done for her aren't really anything at all — it's just what you do. it doesn't make him any more special. ] I can still outrun you. [ his voice sounds too choked up to him that he clears his throat. running his fingers against his cheek, he rests it against his knuckles as he looks at the locket. ] But it sounds like you're a better thief than me. Is that list meant to be your least finest moments? The sneak thing's a little on the Cabin Eleven side, but if you're trying to prove the point that I could find you less appealing, you're going about it all wrong.