eachdraidh | 3 ☭ VIDEO & TEXT | OPEN TO BOTH COURTS

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3 ☭ VIDEO & TEXT | OPEN TO BOTH COURTS

dream a little dream of me

[ nine year old luke, minus the scar over his right eye, is in the kitchen, sitting upon a stool with a prototype of a tamagotchi his father (albeit, through his mother) had given to him as a birthday present. it's the first of its kind, his mother had said, none of the other children in the world had ever seen nor gotten their hands on this tiny little egg with a virtual pet inside. he sits at the island, transfixed by his toy, as may castellan smiles, crafting him a peanut butter sandwich as cookies bake in the oven. may glances at him from the corner of her eye, the shade a bright, clear green. ] Why don't you ever ask for a friend? Han could always do with a Leia, Luke. [ her eyebrow rises pointedly, but luke misses it. ]

[ luke doesn't glance up, fiddling with his tamagotchi. shrugging his shoulder, his tone is absent, not paying much attention to her suggestion. ] Maybe. [ he breathes out, ] Han's fine on his own.

[ with her own shrug, may returns to her task while luke seems enrapt with his little pet. but after a while, he notes his mother has stopped moving, and, with a quick glance upward sees him spying may glancing toward the sink, with a taped picture of hermes above it, the edges stained with splashes of water. luke watches her, brows creasing slightly, as sadness seems to sweep over his expression. her features seem to droop, wearing an expression luke describes as sad, her mouth turned down and her eyes dulling in brightness. the tamagotchi remains in his hands, but is no longer the centre of his universe. ] Can we go to the park?

[ may doesn't quite snap out of her reverie until a few moments, his own blue gaze hard against her profile, waiting patiently for her to return to him from a world he doesn't quite understand nor follow. she smiles, but, this time, it doesn't quite reach her eyes. she still doesn't look at him, opting to glance toward the photograph of a man luke's only heard about. hermes, the man who can hear him even when he hasn't picked up a telephone to dial the number he doesn't even know. ] We'll go to the park tomorrow. [ she glances toward him with a smile. ] And, no, we're not getting a dog. [ she goes back to slathering the peanut butter on his sandwich. ] We'll have to leave after lunch, Luke. So no dawd — [ but she stops mid sentence, gasping the rest of the syllable. stilling, her gaze distant. her green eyes seem to spark, a brighter shade swirling within them before he loses sight of her eyes altogether as a scream wracks her body. when the sound seems to make its escape from its prison, she turns to luke with haunting glowing eyes, cloudy, as dense as the fog that occasionally settles atop westport. ]

[ with trepidation, luke waits for his mother to blink and her eyes to turn green again, but they remain cloudy, her stare unnerving. his voice shakes with fright. ] Mom?

[ rather than approach her, acting on his own worry, anxiety builds within his chest as may's face seems to crumple, her attractive features almost turning ugly with fear and grief all at once. her voice is shrill, nothing like the low and warm tones it had been moments prior: ] My son. Not his fate! [ she begins to advance toward him, but despite the focus of her eyes, hard upon him, luke knows she can't see him. he pulls himself from the stool, frightened. her hands grip his shoulders, her knuckles turning white. ] Hermes, help! It's not his fate — terrible and dangerous!

[ wriggling, he struggles to break from her hold, eyes shut tightly as he flinches. luke manages to take a few steps back, stumbling as he does so. the moment he doesn't feel the press of her sharp talons in his upper arms, he turns and bolts out the door. he runs as fast as his legs will carry him, the tamagotchi held tightly within his grip as he stampedes along the footpath, carelessly across the road without looking both ways, until he finds himself at the park, panting. before he can fully bend himself in half and press his hands against his knees to catch his breath, he collapses onto the park bench he walks toward. all of his movements feel as though he's floating on a cloud, his bones and muscles moving of their own accord. ]

[ still breathing heavily, luke's eyes are wet, a few tears having escaped to trail down his cheeks and leave a stain in their wake. he feels one curl beneath his chin, and that's when he wipes it with the back of his hand, before rubbing his eyes roughly with his fingers. it's then he remembers the tamagotchi clutched tightly in his left hand, interfering with his attempts to dry his face and breathe the redness from his neck and cheeks away. opening his fingers, he takes note his little animal seems to be injured. with a few quick presses of the buttons, his brows furrow, from concentration to annoyance, as his little pet begins to fade. ] No, no. Han … [ his little egg tells him his pet is dead, neglected from its owner for not filling its bowl in time. luke's fist forms tightly around the toy before he throws it as far as he can from himself, it landing somewhere in the dirt. through gritted teeth, ] Stupid Hermes.

[ he's uncertain of how long he sits there, seething, but the moment he realises he's calm, the sun has begun to set, and his skin feels damp and blotchy. his gaze skims over the playground, deserted, save for a man sitting on the far bench in the distance. he's shrouded in darkness, but he doesn't seem to move. rather than being unnerved by his presence, luke merely shrugs it off, pulling himself to his feet, and walking the distance back home. ]

[ the front door is closed, but with an easy twist of the knob, he opens it, not remembering it slam behind him in his desire to flee. the house is dark, may nowhere to be found, but his legs, nonetheless, carry him to the kitchen rather than the sanctuary of his room. on the kitchen table, on a plate, is a peanut butter sandwich with a few cookies, some burnt around the edges, and an empty glass waiting for him. opening the fridge, he steals the kool-aid. pulling himself up into the chair, he pours himself a glass and picks at the crust, eating it in silence, the darkness settling upon the house as no lights are turned on. ]

text

[ two hours later, luke will respond to any commentary he earns, but first he opts to press this into the hands of everyone an hour and fifteen minutes after the broadcast. the moment it happens, he knows — he's the kid of the guy who rules technology, after all. despite his own attempts to manipulate the video from sight, he can't quite erase it from the locket network. ]

I guess this is the time to make a confession.

I'm a big Wookie fan.

[ it's easier to be flippant about something he refuses to acknowledge, not even within the moment both annabeth and thalia had met may castellan with a fourteen year old luke. he misses his mom, but it's the shame of his own actions that has him acting as though he doesn't. ]

( ooc: may's vision dialogue was shamelessly borrowed from the last olympian. )

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[no, you're not even being humored with text anymore. his expression when he flips the video on is impressively cool, just a little crease between his eyebrows giving away his concern.]

Luke.

[ luke's an asshole, so he continues to hide behind text. it's easier for him — he doesn't need to school his features or try and think up a quip when he has none in his arsenal. it's as though the revealing of that particular memory which haunts him has wiped him clean of all of his usual weapons. so, he falls back on the one thing he knows deters most heroes. ]

Jason.

Are you still around, or did you run off again already?

[don't you lie. if he thinks you are he'll just hunt you down right now.]

[ the #juke is so intense right now. ]

Why does it matter?

[ he stops himself from typing want to hug it out? which makes his text fall flat on its ass, but its better the message does than luke when jason comes stomping into his space and kicks his legs out from underneath him. ]

Because I'm gonna come find you, so you might as well not delay the inevitable and just tell me where you are.

[hugging it out is exactly what's gonna happen. except you were such a dick about the last time he was just being all nice and concerned about you that he's not gonna bother being careful this time. screw letting you take things at your own pace.]

[ around would be a cruel answer, and one that would only earn him jason's ire. it'd be too easy to just send him that, infuriating the son of zeus until sparks emerge from his ears. ]

My room.

I'm not staying.

[ for long. it'd been weird to return to a suite too gold and too princely for a kid who believes he doesn't deserve such luxury. he wants to head back to the station before any of them ensnare him, but the invasion of his own nightmare has his ankle looped with rope. it'd be so easier to pretend he was back at the station — a nice clean getaway. but, of course, drabwurld has to mess that up. ]

[that little crease in his brow relaxes the slightest bit. at least you know when to give it up.]

I'm not gonna force you to stay for long. Just don't go anywhere in the next few minutes.

[ he'd toss in a yes, mom, but considering the nature of his own memory, he doesn't even think to type it. instead, he sighs, something jason misses due to luke's stubborn nature to not meet him video for video. ]

Don't pull a Nico and fairy ring pop in.

[ it's a bit pointless to say, but it's the only type of confirmation jason will get of luke staying where he is rather than opting for running away. ]

[ but luke does as jason asks — or demands, since luke would still deny him, thinking there's room for him to push back against a pretty please with cherries on top, let me come see you? — and lingers in his room, unhappy all the while. the door's open, despite him wishing to lock it and provide yet another obstacle for jason in hopes it'll deter him from the path luke doesn't need the spirit of delphi within him to predict. it's one he knows will make his skin itch with discomfort, but jason's as stubborn as a rock, and despite luke trying to pick him up from the earth floor and toss him as far away from him as possible, he refuses to budge. ]

[ damn zeus kids. ]

[when he said a few minutes? he meant more like one. actually traversing the damn castle is a detour he doesn't want to risk, not when he isn't absolutely sure that luke won't just fuck off into the night, but luckily jason has a shortcut that cuts his travel time down to almost nothing.

luke might be watching the his open door, but the all too immediate knock comes from his window instead, a certain blond demigod hovering (im)patiently outside.]

[ he expects the knock to come from the other side of the door, not his damn window. luke's head whips around toward the window where the biggest pain in his ass since clarisse la rue hovers outside. ] Shit the Styx. [ if he were a real jerk, he'd let him stay there, using up all his energy until he gives up and flutters on home — but despite taking the mantel of super asshole, luke doesn't think to enact on such a cruel thing. despite believing he deserves a great big smack in the face, jason doesn't deserve any ill-treatment — especially from him. ]

[ instead, he hops up from the little seat at the end of his bed and moves toward the window. unlatching it, he shakes his head, eyes wide as his brows crease together. ] You're insane. [ but despite his declaration of jason's lack of sanity, he does move backward to give the flying golden son of lightning room to hover into his prince suite. ] They have doors for a reason, Grace.

Thanks for sticking around.

[the gratitude is sincere, however controlled he's trying to keep his expression for the sake of not scaring luke off with emotion. the guy seems to have a thing about that, not unlike nico. it's just that where nico tends to either lash out or close himself off in response to such things, luke gets aggressively snarky.

he lands inside the room without another word, not even looking at the oldr demigod. he politely closes the window behind him and crosses the room the do the same to the door before finally turning back to luke.

okay, now you're getting that hug.]

[ jason steals luke's stalling time, closing the window and the door, leaving him to stand like a moron within his own room. it's the gratitude that has him anchored to the floor, incapable of running — luke's never been good at staying around, it perhaps being in his nature to take the high road when things get tough and stormy. he wants to do that now, regretting his decision to even respond to jason, but it's all wiped from him the moment the other demigod embraces him. ]

[ it takes him by surprise, his owns arms removing themselves from his body. rather than return it, they remain where they are, out, like petrified wings, as he frowns. ] What in Hades, Jason? [ it's the only thing he can think to say, voice higher, as the predictions he held toward jason's own movements and his own words are thrown right into tartarus. affection is something luke isn't a complete virgin toward, but it's something he tries to avoid, thinking himself too sharp and hard for such a soft and loving gesture. ]

[luke is certainly killing the mood of this hug, being all still and awkward, but jason just rolls his eyes and squeezes tighter.]

Would you just relax already? You're my friend. [regardless of what you seem to think.] I know you already weren't alright after Annabeth, and that... [that dream or memory or whatever they're calling these things, an old scene of a mother unhinged enough to chase luke off the same was jason's had thalia.] ...that sucked.

[he's the epitome of eloquence, seriously. it's only after that bit that he finally pulls back, keeping a grip on luke's shoulders so he can eye him seriously, brows pulling together in concern now that he's actually got the guy pinned down for a few minutes.]

You okay?

[ relax, says the kid who throws luke out of his element by pushing him and hugging him. he remains tense — even if he were to be patted on the head, akin to taming a wild cat into something soft and domestic, his hackles would still be raised. jason is safe, but the things he says and does aren't. it's in luke's nature to be distrustful, believing the worst in those around him — or maybe it's just easier to set himself up for disappointment, dragging his heels rather than enjoying the stroll through a rather pretty park. ]

[ — albeit, one with a few thorns and weeds that prick at his bare feet and ruin the pretty flowers growing along the path. as if he has the ability to manipulate plant life, jason encourages those weeds to grow by bringing up her name and addressing what the entirety of drabwurld had been witness to. it's weeds and it's dead plants — and luke wants to speak nor see neither of them. ]

Yeah. [ no. it'd been hard enough to admit being vulnerable to jason via text. this, while especially in person, is harder. luke can't hide behind his locket, nor behind the text function. he can't hole himself away and claim he'd dropped his locket or it had died on him. this is the stuff he keeps locked away, so far within his own soul that, hopefully, a titan will never be able to reach it once again. he'd locked himself up within a box when annabeth and thalia had been privy to his mother's antics, lost within her clouded vision and her own routine of preparing a lunch for him he knows he'll never go home to enjoy. he pulls a smile, it entirely mirthless. ] Peachy keen, dude. [ the smile remains in place, shoulder shrugging, but that most likely won't push jason's hand off. ] I'm a-okay. It sure was nice to see you. [ so let go now so he can make like a hermes kid and flee. ]

[guess who doesn't believe a word of that and isn't letting go.]

I'm serious.

[that's letting you off easy. you can pretend you're just joking around, or insist on keeping all this carefree lone wolf shit up and keep him right here digging through it. if the look on his face is any indication, jason's not tolerating any dicking around right now and he's prepared to stand here all night if he has to.]

[ standing is the one thing luke is not great at. it's moving — fast and away from things — that shows his skill. ] So am I. I'm as cool as a cucumber, Grace. Not sure what else you want from me.

[ it's a lie — he knows what he's searching for, digging deep within the carbonite that doesn't so much as crack beneath his own hammer and chisel. it requires luke's own hands to break it, smashing the block into rubble. the thing is, he doesn't want to break it, preferring for everything to be trapped beneath the carbonite block and put on ice until he truly finds his way to elysium. jason can see that, he's certain of it, but he still pushes. ]

[ he shrugs his shoulder again. rather than let that particular gold nugget linger between them, allowing jason to inform him just what it is he expects, luke inhales, appearing as though he's going to open up, when, flippantly — ] I had a Tamagotchi phase. Every kid did.

[there's something a little disappointed in the way he frowns, a sigh held back and escaping as just a puff of air out the nose. sure, he didn't expect luke to make anything easy on him, but the hope that the guy would understand that he's being sincere here and actually take him seriously is hard to quench.

he lets go of luke's arms, unable to keep up this stare down while talking about tamagotchi of all things, and instead drops down onto luke's bed and looks up at the guy. he might as well get comfortable if this is gonna take a while.]

I never had one.

[you seem to forget that while you were still living at home and playing with cool new toys, jason was living with a giant wolf goddess and training to be a soldier.]

[ when luke is faced with sincerity, he likes to smack it right back to where it came from. it's not a pill he can swallow, nor one he likes to — it's a little too late for sincerity, now, something he's said on countless occasions to good old hermes. despite jason not being his father, it's a habit, one luke's not certain of how to break without scraping his own knees. ]

[ luke remains standing, grateful for the space, even if jason lingers. there's no love in his voice, despite the mirthless smile he wears. ] Guess that's the benefit of having Hermes as a dad. You get all the technology before all the other kids do. [ he'd felt special over it, excited his dad had thought of him in such a way to spoil him with someone he could — and did — show off to all the other kids in the neighbourhood. it leaves a bitter taste in his mouth, now, merely driving luke to his anger quicker than it had when he had been nine years old and completely oblivious. ]

I'd offer to get you one, but it's no longer hip to be a Tamagotchi owner.

I'm good, thanks.

[jason plus small delicate electronics isn't a good idea anyway. all it'd take is one stray spark to fry the thing.

he may be sitting and apparently at ease, but jason remains ever perceptive and thoughtful. maybe it's because he really does know the feeling, but it's hard not to see right to the heart of that affectionless snark. he frowns slightly but tries for a more lighthearted tone anyway, all too aware that making this too obvious of a feelings jam is just likely to scare luke off.]

...If it makes you feel any better, I've never met my dad even once.

[and his mom wasn't really much to talk about either. he does get it, luke.]

[ unfortunately, it doesn't. luke's had the pleasure of meeting zeus in passing, but he can't say he can speak well of the guy. he still turned thalia into a tree rather than breathing life into her weakened lungs. he's still a dick, by luke's standards. jason dodged a bullet by not meeting that guy — even if his roman counterpart might be fifty percent less of a dick. ]

Zeus. [ the sarcasm is thick in his voice. he smiles, pulling his mouth in a close-lipped mirthless expression. ] What a great guy. [ he thinks to pace, his legs itching to move, but luke remains where he's standing, fighting off the urge to travel the length of his own suite. ] Stole his Master Bolt once. [ his brows pull together. ] Anyone ever enlighten you about that?

[ if he can't somehow push jason from his room by being an immovable boulder, perhaps he can by reminding him that he's not the most swell of guys. this is a mission that's bound to fail — it's almost written in the ball of yarn. ]

No. No one ever really gave me all the details of what went down on the Greek side of things in all that.

[even after the whole shitstorm that happened with backbiter and all. he does an impressive job of keeping a cool face, but there's maybe a hint of tension in his jaw as he says it that gives him away. he hasn't liked secrets and incomplete information ever, and especially not since all the shit with juno and finally finding thalia.]

Wanna tell me about it?

[it almost feels like a parody of therapy, wording it like that after he'd come to make sure luke was okay. even if he's not specifically asking about the whole mom thing. but all he knows is clarisse's anger and nico's indifference and annabeth's mixed feelings, and he can only wonder if anyone ever got luke's side of the story -- the whole thing, start to finish. and it's not like he can rely on anyone else to give him the complete story, so the offer is made.]

[ it's easier to speak of zeus and the master bolt, of how he'd been a pawn in kronos' game, than speak of may castellan. it's something luke doesn't ever want to talk about, preferring others to cast him as the villain. but he has an inkling jason may push one of the topics — and possibly opening his eyes to the manner in which his good old dad works is the better path, the one that leaves luke less like a gaping, open wound. the lightning thief is a story all who bother to ask know. the one of the boy who had lost his mother before he had even understood what became of her when her gaze grew cloudy isn't. it's easier — atonement is something luke castellan doesn't deserve, even if, sometimes, he believes otherwise. ]

[ luke remains standing, arms crossed, mirthless grin still on his face, a solid and thick mask not even backbiter could destroy. his tone isn't similar to that of a mother or father tucking their child into bed and reading them a bedtime story. it's full of malice and sarcasm, removing him from the core of the issue entirely. ] Good old grandpa told me the Master Bolt would be the solution to all my problems. Steal it and bring war among the Big Three. [ he shrugs, like it doesn't matter. a war among zeus, hades, and poseidon wouldn't bring the destruction of the world. it's merely a tiny ripple within a much larger pond — but those three are the pond. ] Seems simple. Had to frame the kid of Poseidon, maybe that'd cause a tidal wave. Did it. Your dad sent Ares on my tail — a few choice words had him opening the door for me. I think he'd even shoot down a cab if I asked for it. [ ares had been easy. the god of war may be an intimidating figure full of anger, impossible to move even with the strongest fingers trying to ply the boulder from its bed in the earth, but with a few well-chosen words hitting his hot buttons, he'd turned to putty in luke's hands. he should've died that day. if ares hadn't been so susceptible to the simple thought of war, the titan war would never have grown into the tsunami it had. ]

Your dad was ready to kill Percy without thought. He was ready to wipe out the entire world for that one, lousy bolt. All that destruction for just one slip of power. [ luke's face twists into something ugly. he shakes his head. and while that mask he wears may be impenetrable to the blade of backbiter, it cracks beneath another. despite any efforts he makes to control the tone of his voice, it lowers, somewhat breaking. ] And all he could do for Thalia was turn her into a tree.

[ sometimes, luke deems it justice he had — temporarily — stolen something so pivotal to zeus. jason's dad — the greek side, anyway — had stolen something precious from luke without so much as a thought toward the ripple effect him morphing flesh to bark would have on a child of hermes. ]

[maybe a bit surprisingly, he doesn't argue any of that badmouthing. a few months ago, when they'd first arrived, he might have -- gods know he was always willing to give the benefit of the doubt to anyone he considered himself loyal to, and zeus was still ultimately one of the good guys, right?

except since then, he's gotten the story of how dear old dad had tried to murder a pair of kids because he felt like they could eventually become a thread to him, and how he'd actually killed nico's mother. and the thing is, it's hard to defend a person, even just to yourself, when you suddenly actually see how they've made others suffer. when he has to realize that, if not for jason's dad, nico would still have a mom. somehow, there's no shock in learning that zeus had been ready to kill percy too, just a sort of nauseating resignation.

only the mention of thalia actually draws a grimace out of him, and jason drops his gaze down to his lap.]

Yeah, that sounds like dad.

[Anything to do with moms has Stiles feeling that pang of both guilt and jealousy. The memory doesn't look like a happy one, but he also recognizes the attempt to brush it off. He doesn't want to ask about it, afraid that that might bring someone to ask about his own shared little vision, but he can at least acknowledge it in some kind of bro-code way.

So he replies via text.]

Wookies and droids are the only way to go.

[ luke appreciates the attempt, finding himself unnerved those who he hasn't even met know more about his life than those he had considered family, once. but at least his fellow star wars fan isn't asking any questions, pushing him into a corner until he's trapped in his own block of carbonite. ]

Guess we shouldn't forget those Ewoks. Cute little bastards, aren't they?

Very. And apparently they know how to throw a party.

[Stiles theme of 'ignore a problem until it went away' would come heavily into play here. That wasn't something that he figured the other guy wanted him to see and he wasn't going to point it out any more than it had already been. But hey, if he could help with a little distraction, why not?]

[ a wookie and ewok fan. man, those who are team jedi are seriously going to weep at losing this guy from their team. it seems as though a few people within drabwurld don't know what any of these terms are — it's a pity, but luke's going to take advantage of a guy who seems to know his encyclopedia of space terms. he doesn't pry and he goes along with luke's bullshit — for now, anyway. ]

And they have hang gliders. They seem like my type of little bear.

Who needs a light saber when you can fly through the trees and have a 50% chance of crashing?

[Stiles is used to dealing with problem in the manly fashion of pretending they don't exist. He can turn the proverbial eye and honestly, he's also just glad to find someone else that knows what Star Wars is. Long live Lucas.]

Not to mention cool tree houses. Ewoks are living the dream. All they need is wifi and outlets for my Xbox and it'd be Eden.

[ someone has clearly been reading the very few and rare forum comments he makes about the ewok's living situation. wifi and xbox are particular hot topics for luke, considering he's been lounging about in the station for a good month trying to surf the net and kill some zombies. ]

Sounds like my type of party. But what Xbox games are we talking here?

Don't forget the free food. None of this scavenging for crap business — it's a party, not an Easter egg hunt.

There's bad XBox games? I managed to get a few of the house elf kitchen things to make pizza. I feel like I should get a prize for that somehow. A prize aside from being able to have pizza.

Good answer.

But before we advance to our final round of Reverse Jeopardy, I have two questions.

One: What type of pizza?

Two: Was it good pizza?

Bonus round: Thoughts on garlic bread?

I got them to do three kinds for the sampling. There's a guy here from some sword swinging world who'd never had it, so yeah. We had meatlovers, the best version of deluxe here I could get, and mushroom and ham. They don't have pineapple, so no hawaiian. It was what I think real Italian pizza's like. A little crisp on the edges and not as puffy on the crust, but pretty good. Bonus round: There's something inherently wrong with people that don't like garlic bread and they're probably vampires.

Pity. I really wanted a lei.

[ but, hey, there's something a little curious in the text he receives. a guy who has never had pizza? luke's beginning to learn that there are a few oddballs in drabwurld who haven't experienced life like he has — whether it be littered with monsters, running for their lives, or living oblivious to the beasts which linger in the dark. some, it seems, don't even know how to operate technology — the most important thing to punctuate a day! ]

I'm Luke. Not a vampire, but big garlic bread fan, and definitely going to stake out the kitchens when I get a whiff of pizza in the hallways from now on.

Stiles. Good to know about the vampire part. I'm fresh out of holy water. If you want pizza, go ask the kitchen elfy dude with the checker bandana thing. That's the one I taught it too.

[He'd gotten eyed while he'd been in the kitchen at first, but the checker-bandana wearing elf had clued in to what he'd wanted and had seemed eager to learn new foods of some of the new guests to the court. He was planning on trying for lasagna next.]

Stiles. That's unusual.

[ but so is saying my dad's hermes and not the fashion brand, either. he's heard worse, seen worse, and been exposed to even more unusual terms and individuals belonging to such names. stiles sounds harmless — unless they're in a pizza cook-off. ]

Will I get a discount and free garlic bread if I mention your name in casual conversation?

[Don't break his brain, Luke. He's having enough trouble wrapping his head around actual fairies kidnapping him to actual fairy land. Bringing gods into it might make him cry.]

You might. I haven't tried the garlic bread here, but I really don't see how anyone could mess that up. It's bread. It's garlic. It's garlic bread.

[ ( considering mcu has clusterfucked up bucky's history, just pretend there's some heavy introspection here about families and feelings and all that crap. )

suffice to say, it's clearly not a welcomed memory, and bucky sort of feels like he's intruded upon something he shouldn't have seen. it's not like he can unsee it, but he can pretend to ignore that elephant in the room. ]

What the hell's a Wookie??

[ no. ]

[ oh gods, another non-believer? with nico's explanation as to why he doesn't know about the greatest thing on earth unwrapped and luke's forgiveness has been delivered right to his doorstep, he's uncertain of what his mate with the tree fetish could be thinking. star wars is like air. luckily for bucky, he can't see luke's expression. he's uncertain whether to laugh or slap his forehead, but it's clear in luke's tone he's amused. ] Okay, close your eyes. Imagine your best friend. They're pretty clean-cut, right? Maybe a beard, maybe a goatee — whatever. Now, imagine them coated in the longest hair you can think of.

[ he pauses, as though bucky should expect another thing to imagine. ] That's a Wookie.

[ omg stop being a butthole.

well now, calm down. bucky didn't say he's a non-believer. he just doesn't know what all that stuff is. the first star wars movie came out like twenty-two years after he "died." so chill. ]

...So, you're a fan of really hairy men.

[ w o w. learn new things every day. ]

[ there's two ways this can go down: the first, luke actually educates bucky by refuting his claim and explaining it in detail (possibly with pictures) what a wookie is, possibly including a very intricate diagram of the relations of all the characters as an added bonus, and the second, luke says yes. ]

[ it's clear he doesn't need to hesitate with his decision, him smiling, ducking his head as though he's blushing. bucky will hear him chuckling, as though his secret crush has finally been named. ]

What can I say, man? I love having something to hold onto.

[ it's too bad the movie isn't here. bucky would probably like it since he's apparently a science geek. he'd be a pretty good student to teach the ways of the wookie to in all actual reality.

though if he's going to be learning from a furry, that might cause a disturbance in the force...

there's a palpable pause while bucky tries to find something to say but he just winds up laughing outright instead. ]

Whatever makes ya happy, pal. Guess I can understand that.

[ sort of???????? but he much prefers a woman's curves. ]

[ as much as clarisse likes to think she knows about luke, this broadcast only serves as reinforcement that she actually knows very little about the boy she used to look up to when she was a little girl. it was never any of her business, and as a kid it never would have occurred to her to ask what his trauma was, or even recognize that that was the underlying root of all his anger and resentment toward the gods. sure, she knew about thalia — everyone did — but that was only one straw closer to breaking the camel's back. it hadn't actually started anything, it'd only made things worse, and his anger toward the gods only festered until the time he got his quest, and all the time he had to spend watching the hermes cabin fill up, bunk after bunk until there weren't any bunks left and it became almost a joke that the hermes cabin was so cramped. it shouldn't have been a joke, but they all laughed at it anyway, especially those who had been claimed, like herself, even though most of them had spent their time in the hermes cabin, herself included. it was never meant to be a permanent thing for her, though. she was always destined to get out, unlike so many of the kids who, to this day, still probably aren't claimed. she always thought that had been his biggest beef with the gods, that they cared so little about their children, that they viewed their kids as only tools to watch reruns of their favorite quests, or to solve all their problems because they were the heroes, and why would gods ever interfere in the lives of the children they brought into this world? ]

[ it's not just that, though. she can see it now. the roots of luke's anger go so much deeper than just thalia, than just the unclaimed kids overflowing the hermes cabin, than deadbeat dads who try too little too late and never enough. she almost doesn't watch the whole thing; she almost doesn't want to know, because with understanding comes sympathy and she knows that's the one thing he doesn't want, from her especially. she never once pitied him, not when he'd come back from his quest with a fresh scar and the dragon's claw that had given it to him in hand instead of the golden apple he'd been tasked to steal. she never once viewed him as a failure, but how was a twelve-year-old supposed to convince him of that? she didn't understand then what she does now, didn't understand the resentment he harbored towards his father and the rest of the gods. she'd still been fairly innocent back then — or, rather, just ignorant to the real problems surrounding the gods and their children, and luke has always been good at hiding his feelings behind a layer of sarcasm or wit, just as he is now. the one thing she understands more than anything, maybe more than his anger, is his instinct to push people away because it's better for everyone that way, because it's easier, because you want to hope it won't hurt as much that way. so far, it hasn't seemed to work out so great for either of them that way, with each other or with anyone else. they pushed each other away a long time ago (she was never going to be the one he'd seek out, not when he had annabeth, and not when she had her new-found brothers) and now she wonders if that's all they can do. ]

[ the memory of his mother hits her hard. it was no secret that luke had run away from home — everyone knew the story about grover and the demigod trio — but he never talked about why he'd run away from home in the first place. he'd always make up excuses to get out of talking about it or fabricate stories just to get obnoxious little kids like clarisse to stop asking and shut up about it. she understands now why that particular subject was always Off Limits, why no one, not even annabeth, ever really knew the true story of luke castellan. she feels almost protective of such a young and innocent luke — and how can she deny now that he, like all of them, aren't just victims of the gods? for so long she's refused to admit that maybe there was truth to everything luke preached about the gods, always trying to convince herself that it was all bullshit because ares was always there for her when she needed him. she knows it's not true, though. she knows he's right, that ares never gave a shit about her until she slayed the drakon — he might have claimed her after an exceptional game of capture the flag, but that had only put her on an even more arduous path, one of constantly seeking his approval and his pride. she has her doubts, even now, that she'll never really be good enough for him. ]

[ but what she feels more than anything else is guilt. it twists inside her chest as if it wants to wring her heart dry, and she's more than certain it's succeeding. she almost feels sick, seeing his mother make the same sandwich he'd received with his boons, the same sandwich he'd shared with her despite their hopelessly broken relationship, despite what she now knows it means to him, despite everything — and she knows she didn't deserve it. she wishes he'd just kept it to himself, let her starve just that much more, because it would be better than feeling like this. ever since la llorona and everything that happened on their way back, she's been trying to ignore a lot of things, namely how she feels about luke, which she doesn't even fully understand. it's complicated. beyond complicated. and after nico's call about silena — the one thing she's been holding over his head more than anything else; the one thing she's finally starting to let go of because she has silena's forgiveness, and with that forgiveness she can start to forgive herself and maybe work on forgiving luke — she feels like she's somewhere in limbo when it comes to luke. she overreacted about backbiter, about the chariot, but she hasn't been able to dig herself out of the hole she made; the more she tries, the more it collapses back on her, and at this point it's been easier finding things to hate than owning up to the fact that she was wrong about him. ]

[ if she could apologize now, she would, but she knows if she said anything right now, it would only make things worse. she hasn't been anything less than an asshole, clinging to the past to make herself feel better. she's been completely and unabashedly selfish, and normally that wouldn't bother her, but how can it not after a broadcast like this? luke was just a kid like her once, scared and confused and angry — but she hadn't been destined to nearly destroy the world, hadn't had her childhood completely ripped away from her by the gods and their fated bullshit. she'd actually had a mother, not a woman cursed with the sight clinging to the image of a god too scared to do anything when his son did need him the most. the longer she stares at the locket, the worse she feels — but just as it always has been and always will be, she isn't the one he wants or needs to hear from, and she never will be. ]

Edited 2014-07-18 05:00 (UTC)

[ for once, clarisse is dead-on. she's not the person he wishes to hear from. ]

[ neither is anyone else, to be truthful — it's a memory which haunts him on a daily basis, him wondering what had become of may castellan since his own death, of how she had felt and reacted when she spied her son's bed empty and made, his prized possessions in a backpack slung over his back as he had closed his eyes and pointed his finger for the breeze to tell him which direction it is he should travel. did those monsters she spoke of remain on the pathway outside their home, or had they attacked him as one of the very many that tried to send him to hades before he reached the age of ten? ]

[ it's bad enough jason's invited himself over to talk — about what, luke's uncertain, wishing to keep his lips zipped when it comes to the topic of may castellan. she's untouchable, a piece of debris floating on the surface of a calm and nondescript ocean, the other bits of the sunken ship having either been stolen by pirates or in the middle of their journey to sinking toward the ocean bed to embed themselves into the mud below, disrupting the flow of a sea creature's life. she's his own well-kept secret and most horrid nightmare, him never quite being able to save his mother from what had gripped her before he had even taken his first step. his fate had driven her to the brink of insanity, it being his own fault hermes had never quite come knocking on their door with apollo gripped tightly by the scruff and thrown over the threshold as he demanded his own kin to heal the woman he supposedly loved — once in his life, for maybe a split second. ]

[ the sandwich, requested in sarcasm and born from exhaustion and his own self-loathing moving to the forefront like that of a titan taking possession of his body, had been alcohol in an already gaping and infected wound. it's best clarisse doesn't respond, allowing him to pretend she doesn't see it at all. he doubts she'll make the connection, deeming the sandwich just another stupid thing luke has done, wasting his boon request just as he had wasted his life on the path toward anger and his own self-destruction. it's easier to allow her to villainise him, taking his attempts to slip back into the role as camp counselor as poor and ill-fit, the shoes too big for him, now, the wings on them having gone dead, decaying from their lack of use. he lets them, allowing her to push him until his own belief he can make up for what he had done is broken in two, irretrievable and beyond repair — but at the separating of a sandwich, he had buried his own head deep within the dirt to block out any of her own commentary, wishing to keep may castellan as far away from the powerful and hateful grip of clarisse la rue. if he can do one thing right, it's to free may castellan, leaning on her, years later, when he had been afraid to so much as place a tiny amount of pressure upon her. ]

[ unlike hermes, who clogged his ears with thick, hard cloud, clarisse hears his own prayer, to leave him be, to not prod the hide of the dragon teetering on the edge of breathing fire to roast an entire village for merely pushing the beast to the darkest and smallest part of its own cave. she'd done so, with her threat, her chariot the only piece of her useful to luke in his bid to run, escaping the monsters lingering on his own sidewalk, just outside his prince suite. she hadn't listened, then, closing her eyes and pressing the heel of her palms to her ears as she threatened war on a boy who was already fighting a battle on two fronts himself. his returning of her chariot had been his own attempt at personifying the fates, cutting the tether that linked them together with his sharp and big scissors — unlike his attempts to fray at the rope connecting him to hermes, it growing thicker and stronger with every try of a blade to cut it in half. it lingers in drabwurld in the form of a star, lassoing him and tossing both he and hermes into a pen together. for once in her life, for the smallest, most minuscule of seconds, clarisse isn't an asshole. ]

[ — not like luke will notice it, anyway. ]

Edited 2014-07-19 03:14 (UTC)

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