[ for someone who hadn't had anyone with him when he'd been younger, always self-sufficient and relying on the caster of his own shadow, he expects everyone to leave him as his father had. he can only glean hermes had been around from what may had spoken of to him, always recalling him with fondness in her tone, even if the details remained a little too sparse for a boy who was greedy for more information on an elusive father figure he had always imagined to walk right through the door of their house in connecticut and complete their family once and for all. but it'd only been wishful thinking of a boy who had grown to understand that monsters lurked within the shadows of his own room, even within the photograph of a man above the sink who always haunted him as a ghastly spectre instead of seeing such a nasty apparition disperse before him with his mere presence. having someone there, with him — he's been alone since before he was nine and fled from his house in connecticut to battle monsters and grow hard and weary. ]
[ considering the nature of himself — sneaking into homes, stealing items or food or anything that caught his eye — her intrusion isn't unwelcome nor even new to him. it isn't a slight against him — if she were to follow his lead from before and ignore any of the heaviness that he had wanted to pretend wasn't on his shoulders, settling there where the cloak of the golden cadre should be, he would even laugh and tease her, seeing himself rubbing off on her as she broke into the homes of innocents — and it isn't one that he'll mark against her in the future, pushing her out of his suite as though she's truly unwelcome. as many don't come to visit him, save clarisse's two dogs who claw at his door until he relents and opens it, his own room within the castle is a haunting of its own. gold, like kronos' own sarcophagus, the shade he wishes to avoid but is often confronted with in caer glaem, it's as lonely as he had felt within cabin eleven, despite being surrounded by half-siblings and cousins. ]
[ lifetimes, though. given only one life, perhaps this is truly his rebirth. instead of seeing the isles of the blest as he had always hoped for, it's a second chance at living a life that had been so cruelly stolen from him. and he honestly doesn't mind the company, not when she has a soft voice, a nice accent, and a warm hand that doesn't flinch beneath his but seems to fit nicely within and beneath and on top of his own long fingers and roughened palms. not many people take to him so affectionately, often letting him steer the ship as he pushes people away with a mighty shove. it's the infrequent hug he receives, but never is it a true gesture of physical affection he's been at the receiving end of. despite kelli always wishing to hang off of him, it's truly been years since he had been physically comfortable with another, incapable of forcefully wedging distance between them as he successfully pushed them away. ]
[ he looks to her with a bit of a smile, amusement in his tone, ] I hope those idiots you call friends know how lucky they are. [ to have a friend that may say she'll leave them alone if they wish, but, truthfully, she won't, not in spirit or in mind as he believes she'd fuss and fret over them until she received that call. but he doubts either of them to be a stubborn as him, so used to being a lone wolf that he would simply toss his own locket away in a bid to not give into a temptation he's never felt before. but he doesn't say thanks quite yet, finding it difficult to acknowledge what he habitually swats away. he glances away, down at their hands, as his voice lowers, ] I'm used to going at it alone. Sometimes I think I'm too good at it that I don't really know how to let other people be there for me. [ he looks up at her from the corner of his eye, head remaining bowed. he's trying — instead of purposefully shoving clarisse away, intentionally hitting all her hot buttons to see her kick up the dust after she tries to swing at him, he's been making a good attempt to make amends and fix a relationship he hasn't really thought of in years. he's trying — baby steps. ] I don't know how good I'll be at calling, but … [ he looks to his side, unable to see martha, but he can hear her beneath the cushions. it's with a slight smile, evident in his voice, ] I've got two people who would be happy to snitch on me if I can't pull my head out of my own ass.
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[ considering the nature of himself — sneaking into homes, stealing items or food or anything that caught his eye — her intrusion isn't unwelcome nor even new to him. it isn't a slight against him — if she were to follow his lead from before and ignore any of the heaviness that he had wanted to pretend wasn't on his shoulders, settling there where the cloak of the golden cadre should be, he would even laugh and tease her, seeing himself rubbing off on her as she broke into the homes of innocents — and it isn't one that he'll mark against her in the future, pushing her out of his suite as though she's truly unwelcome. as many don't come to visit him, save clarisse's two dogs who claw at his door until he relents and opens it, his own room within the castle is a haunting of its own. gold, like kronos' own sarcophagus, the shade he wishes to avoid but is often confronted with in caer glaem, it's as lonely as he had felt within cabin eleven, despite being surrounded by half-siblings and cousins. ]
[ lifetimes, though. given only one life, perhaps this is truly his rebirth. instead of seeing the isles of the blest as he had always hoped for, it's a second chance at living a life that had been so cruelly stolen from him. and he honestly doesn't mind the company, not when she has a soft voice, a nice accent, and a warm hand that doesn't flinch beneath his but seems to fit nicely within and beneath and on top of his own long fingers and roughened palms. not many people take to him so affectionately, often letting him steer the ship as he pushes people away with a mighty shove. it's the infrequent hug he receives, but never is it a true gesture of physical affection he's been at the receiving end of. despite kelli always wishing to hang off of him, it's truly been years since he had been physically comfortable with another, incapable of forcefully wedging distance between them as he successfully pushed them away. ]
[ he looks to her with a bit of a smile, amusement in his tone, ] I hope those idiots you call friends know how lucky they are. [ to have a friend that may say she'll leave them alone if they wish, but, truthfully, she won't, not in spirit or in mind as he believes she'd fuss and fret over them until she received that call. but he doubts either of them to be a stubborn as him, so used to being a lone wolf that he would simply toss his own locket away in a bid to not give into a temptation he's never felt before. but he doesn't say thanks quite yet, finding it difficult to acknowledge what he habitually swats away. he glances away, down at their hands, as his voice lowers, ] I'm used to going at it alone. Sometimes I think I'm too good at it that I don't really know how to let other people be there for me. [ he looks up at her from the corner of his eye, head remaining bowed. he's trying — instead of purposefully shoving clarisse away, intentionally hitting all her hot buttons to see her kick up the dust after she tries to swing at him, he's been making a good attempt to make amends and fix a relationship he hasn't really thought of in years. he's trying — baby steps. ] I don't know how good I'll be at calling, but … [ he looks to his side, unable to see martha, but he can hear her beneath the cushions. it's with a slight smile, evident in his voice, ] I've got two people who would be happy to snitch on me if I can't pull my head out of my own ass.