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@aeternuming-blog
@gleiprnirchains // *
his apartment door shuts with a subtle click. he debates locking it - one of his roommates is there. is that normal? the security obsession people from this era have is still very bizarre to him, but he doesn’t sweat about locking the door before bounding down to the lobby.
where he very nearly collides with another golden ward resident.
“er - whoa,” he mutters, lurching to one side before his back straightens ram-rod. “sorry ‘bout that...”
@quiet-or-die // *
there are a lot of familiar faces. that’s the curse of this place - you’ll see people you recognize in between the swarms of new faces, but they may not always be the same iteration. one could go years in spirale without meeting someone who had been there the same amount of time as you have. but this guy - he very vaguely remembers him.
from where, however ... he can’t truly recall. the bus hums as it waits at a stop, passengers paying the toll and embarking. after a few times of glancing, debating if he really does recognize him, he makes eye contact.
ever-friendly, lloyd smiles at the monk.
@edibledragons // *
“hey - excuse me...” lloyd isn’t particularly sure if the man is aware of the passenger clinging to his hair. the little bug is harmless - it’s a very pretty butterfly. one of coloration he’s never seem before. that, in and of itself, is piquing the young swordsman’s interest.
but ... the guy is still just staring off into space? gently, so as not to startle the butterfly so that it tangles its fragile legs in the man’s hair and likewise not the man himself, lloyd taps on the older man’s shoulder.
desipiam:
He finds himself pulled from sleep, like being pulled up from a great press of water. The weight of something settling against him, fingers carding through his hair, warm breath on his cheek. He goes rigid, mind racing as it tries to process just what is going on, half-asleep as it is.
It’s Lloyd. Lloyd is here.
( He’s still here. He’s not gone. )
He shifts, but makes no move to get up. Doesn’t even open his eyes. He can smell the food. The brunet had always been an early riser. ( he remembers finding it ridiculous just how early the younger man would get up, back when they had traveled together ) There’s something so….grossly domestic in the thought of someone making him breakfast in bed. Something that makes his stomach turn, even as it grumbles.
A grunt, and then, “What time is it?”
“the sun rose a bit ago,” he answers, body arched over zelos so that his face can stay close. perhaps it’s a bit odd to fixate on it, but lloyd always thought that zelos smelled really good. pushing his nose into the redhead’s messy hair, lloyd pauses before delivering another kiss to his head and sitting up. “just past 9am now, i think.”
carefully, as to not disturb the tray he’d sat upon the comforter, lloyd shifts off of the bed. the bedroom is comfortably warm, as expected. zelos is even less inclined to face the winter chill than lloyd is, though he has pulled a hoodie over the tank-top he’d slept in regardless.
skirting the bed, the swordsman climbs back into the sheets and shimmies up closer to his boyfriend. there’s a sympathetic smile on his lips, brown eyes sparkling briefly with the prickle of tears. he does love him, so much that the thought of separation nearly makes him cry. he’s quick to catch himself though, and inhales slowly as he moves the food closer.
“c’mon, or it’ll get cold.”
[ wiggggggg. rp ad! capped at 3. ]
“’scuse me, mister.” lloyd gently taps a gloved finger on the man’s shoulder. his opposite hand clutches a to-go coffee cup from the cafe down the street. he smiles a bit sheepishly. “the barista got my order wrong - do you like tea? i don’t want this to go to waste, but i don’t want to drink it.” // @tokifausa
warmth spreads through the townhouse. ( naturally, lloyd had gone to zelos’ place. ) lloyd is cooking early in the morning, as he is and has and always will be prone to doing as an early-riser. bacon and eggs were first on the to-do list, but in a spur-of-the-moment decision, biscuits toasted with jam and butter were added on as the last of the bacon sizzled in the pan.
just as naturally as lloyd goes through the motions of breakfast shortly after the sun has risen, zelos is still dead asleep in bed. on any other day, prior to his untimely disappearance, lloyd would have gone about his usual routine so that zelos may rise on his own accord. however, being his first morning back, the brunet isn’t terribly interested in leaving his boyfriend’s side.
fate is bullshit, of course, but lloyd is beginning to curse it for yanking the pair of them around as it has.
“hey.”
lloyd keeps his voice low enough as to not startle the sleeping beauty hidden under pillows, blankets, and a curtain of his own unkempt red hair. shifting onto the side of the bed, he sets a tray carrying two plates of breakfast aside before he crowds into zelos’ space, brushing his hair from his cheek before kissing it.
“i made food, z.” // @desipiam
[ o hehe. :^) ]
[ i’m back in isola, yeehaw. if you’d like a small, one-paragraph starter from lloyd, like this post! the cap is at 2 - fellow tales characters & housemates are exempt from the count. ]
without prior reserve, i would like to re-app lloyd irving from tales of. application is under /app. thank you!
Welcome!
You’ll be staying in HOUSE 146!
You’ll retain everything from your previous stay!
Enjoy your stay!
–Mod Lyra
umbralscythe:
it is definitely not the easiest of circumstances to explain. most are put off by the mere idea of a weapon that speaks; as they should be, in this case. kayn knows rhaast holds no love or interest for any single person they come across. the scythe is simply bored, and is hardly communicative outside of its usual condescension for everyone and everything.
❝ yes — to the benefit of absolutely no one the scythe does indeed talk. too much. ❞
❛ SO SAD for you. ❜
the eye on the blade narrows, as if mulling over the strange boy’s words. the knowledge that mortals in this city know not the threat he poses is both amusing and frustrating to no end. almost everyone kayn talks to has some inane question or two.
❛ NO. if i was summoned for any purpose, i would not choose to confine myself to a hunk of metal. the word you’re looking for is DARKIN. ❜
❝ be careful. hard to get him to stop once he gets going. ❞
though the teen who wields the scythe in question warns lloyd of the impending, long-winded story that he is sure would come, the brunette cannot help but gape slightly.
“‘darkin’,” he repeats, voice quiet with an airy wonder.
curious as always, the swordsman opens his mouth once more to post another question for rhaast, only to blink and look kayn in the eye in that moment. the realization of what the other teen had said finally dawns upon him and he smiles sheepishly.
“i take it you’ve heard all about it a thousand times over?” he ventures. lloyd leans forward then, propping his elbows up on his knees and joining his hands together loosely. “i won’t ask then. i hate having to hear the same dull lectures over and over again.”
a snicker. lloyd grins at rhaast before smiling good-naturedly at the boy with a braid.
“i’m lloyd, by the way.”
[ baby boy! i’m back from hiatus on lloyd - as a result, a lot of my ongoing threads from september / october have been archived. if you’re interested in starting a new thread with me, let me know! ]
after a month of minimal presence, the hero emerges from his self-imposed vigil.
with a fever and congested lungs. lloyd is seated upon a bus stop bench, brown hues distant as they peer up at spirale’s november sky. he’s realized that it’s been nearly an entire year since he was taken off of aselia - something worthy of thinking about quite a lot. something worthy of being moderately ashamed of, despite his lack of agency in the decision.
coughing harshly, the swordsman’s reverie is cut drastically short when he starts and lurches from his laid-back lounge. gloved fist over his mouth, lloyd works through the bout, shoulders and knees rattling with the force of each heave of his tired lungs. finally, he relaxes back against the aluminum bench, clearing his throat tentatively.
“probably should’ve stayed home ...”
umbralscythe:
kayn derives some amusement from the other man’s sentiment; a short laugh escapes him, directed toward the weapon in hand.
❝ did you hear that, rhaast? seems someone else thinks you’re better suited to farming, after all. ❞
at least the acolyte can still take pleasure in the small things. the scythe’s eye goes half-lidded at the inquiry, and an annoyed sigh grates from somewhere between nonexistent lungs.
❛ YES. i heard. ❜ rhaast’s attention turns back toward their guest. ❛ YOU. you must certainly have something better to waste your time on — ❜ the darkin tries, but harsh words are stopped prematurely when kayn interrupts.
❝ don’t listen to him. you can stay and watch if you really want to. ❞
though he isn’t particularly sure who it is that the acolyte is speaking to at first, lloyd offers a confused albeit small smile. when lloyd looks toward the scythe once more, the supposed recipient of the jest, lloyd is startled to watch rhaast’s eye move. what he had previously assumed to be some sort of gem adorning the blade is, in fact, and eye.
blustering softly, the brunet nearly stands from his seat.
“the - ” he stops to string together his words. “the scythe talks?” lloyd immediately thinks of the eternal sword and how he was capable of speaking to origin through it.
could the same be true here?
“is rhaast a summon spirit?”
aioniswings:
@aeternuming
Admittedly the knowledge that Lloyd was surely here did not do much to quell the nerves inside of him. There was much to be said about his poor decision making skills regarding the other, and facing those was not necessarily Kratos’ forte. If anything, he was more than convinced the boy did not need him, and involvement would be…Painful.
(I must remember that he already has a father. It would not do to step on toes or memories or—)
A pause in his thoughts as a familiar ruff of brown hair passed his periphery. As though he had summoned his son simply by thinking of him…And yet he was corrected by his inner negativity as if it was that simple–
And yet, there Lloyd was. And despite his misgivings, and his desire to remain away. Because a bright-eyed idealist like Lloyd has no use for someone like Kratos Aurion, he still found himself walking over to the other. Standing before him in this strange city, and all he could say was:
“Lloyd.”
Because what do you say when, upon the rediscovery of your family, you immediately retreated. A mission, some fool’s errand that could have been done by someone else. Having reconciled Lloyd’s being alive and never seeing him again. And now, here he is.
and now, here he is.
( third time’s the charm ... ? )
lloyd still found himself, nearly a year of being in the hive and the habit rekindled by the transplanting to spirale, seeking out familiar faces in the crowds. it happened subconsciously - his coffee would nearly be knocked off his table as he whipped around to inspect the long blonde hair that had passed or he would nearly run into someone on the street while watching a pink ribbon flutter by. his father is certainly no exception to this urge.
yet every time it came to be true - colette, sheena, genis, so on - lloyd found his mind wrapped around in a neat little bow of uncertainty. the surrealism always yanked the rug out beneath his boots and he was left, to varying lengths, stunned still.
when kratos speaks his name, lloyd wafts away the mist in his skull, blinking up at his father. why is his mouth so dry?
“kratos?” he all but croaks.
from whence does he hail? play it cool. play it safe.
“i - i didn’t - did you just get here? i didn’t know you ... were here.”
stormswake:
Yuan isn’t sure what to do now.
Rosa was tolerant enough to let him stay on her couch for a few days and help take care of Stella, but he had to return eventually. Without as much as a word, he’d washed her dishes, picked up the Shinx, and left the house.
He’s back at his housing now. He doesn’t recognize any of his roommates, and he’s thankful for that. They don’t question when he doesn’t emerge from his room. The extent of his interactions with them is limited to monosyllables and nods.
When the doorbell rings, he tilts his head back to peer over the couch and look for a sign someone else will get it. There isn’t one – he must be the only one home right now. He sighs, but gets to his feet anyway. Whoever it is will have to come back later.
“Nobody is home,” he says, pulling the door open.
He blinks.
“Oh.”
the initial response to his arrival is nearly enough to laugh at. lloyd smiles sadly, the air in his lungs puffing out with a soft noise before yuan even answers the door. how very like him to say such a thing while doing the opposite. intentions were always a ... contention.
yet seeing him in person wipes the smile off of lloyd’s face faster than he can register yuan’s face. something in his chest winds tighter than he thought possible and the young swordsman swallows against a knot tying in his throat.
“well, if nobody’s home, guess i’ll just have to leave a message.” this isn’t a phone - he knows that. this is ridiculous. his gaze raises back to yuan, blankly staring at him as he speaks over his clenching throat. “tell yuan ka-fai that lloyd irving missed him and is glad to hear that he’s in spirale, for better or for worse.”
a defensive smile works onto his lips as he speaks before he’s huffing a couple of laughs at the end of his statement. dragging his hand heavily over his head, lloyd’s gaze lights up, glimmering. “anyway, thought i’d drop by and say hello.”
c-aeleste:
Elvir considered his words and nodded along slowly in agreement. Truly, after so much carnage, it was practically dreamlike to experience the current beauty around them.
“Almost makes one believe they are outside a city altogether, yes.”
“There was a meadow similar to this near the cottage I lived in. It is… a comfort, I think, that this is here.” He did not add that he intended to make this a regular spot of his, but it likely didn’t need saying. If he could find anything reminiscent of his home, he would take advantage of it. It would also not go entirely missed if he were to ever return.
Noting the young man’s shift in expression, Elvir glanced to his book before tabbing the page and closing it. “It is alright. I suspect I will have more than enough time to read in this city…”
a meadow with a cottage. the picture that first appears in his mind is of his own home, outside of iselia and lined by the trees of the forest. a pang of bittersweet hits him as he realizes that his misses his father, the one who had raised him generously.
the stranger closes his book and lloyd’s smile still turns slightly apologetic. he pauses where he stands before striding carefully through the flowers, approaching the blond before sitting a pace or two away himself, facing the edge of the cliff.
“oof ... ” adjusting himself, he crossing his legs, feeling the blood rush back into his feet. “i’ve been walking all morning.”
turning his head back to look toward the blond, he offers a hand for the other to shake. “i’m lloyd, by the way. are you new to all this?”
desipiam:
He’d known of the amusement park – that it existed, at least, because he could see the ferris wheel from the casino – before Lloyd had even texted him. And he had had the fleeting thought that perhaps it’d be a nice place to take the brunet, someday. He’d gotten the text a day or so later.
And here they were, Lloyd gently but enthusiastically tugging him along. The sights and smells and sounds of the park assaulted his senses; greasy food and people yelling. It seemed larger than the one in Altamira, and yet strikingly similar in many ways – which made sense, he supposed, how many different ways could a park like this be laid out? Even the ferris wheel seemed familiar, looming as it did from the end of the boardwalk. Looking up at it could give you a sickening sensation, tall as it was.
He chuckled. “Whatever you want, babe.” The excitement was, admittedly, infectious, and Zelos smiled. He was ready to have fun, alright.
“What’s up first?”
zelos’ consent is perhaps a mistake on his part, unless he genuinely enjoys the boundless energy lloyd has for having fun and exploring the unknown. some of the games that line the boardwalk are unfamiliar to him, namely the ones with what he hopes to be toy guns and others with boards of balloons pinned to them. he can’t recall if such games were present in altamira’s amusement park, but he resists the urge to stop at every one and gawk at the larger-than-necessary stuffed animals strung up.
“well, let’s try one of these games, first!” he chirps, the tugging coming to a halt as lloyd slows his gait, peering through the crowd. he’ll pick out one booth and only one, he tells himself. he’s looking forward to the rides too much.
“here - ”
again, he pulls zelos along, carefully making his way through the foot traffic to one booth in particular. one with those colorful balloons.
“this is one that you throw darts for, i think.”
