The Ever Trying Everett

Everett Balor

[everett-balor]

Everett watched, looking up from the book his shaking hands that had been trying to read for at least the past two hours. Thing’s kept distracting him. He wasn’t sure if it was the way the handed down robes were still to long even when his arms were bent, even when the creases around the elbows pulled it back. Another reason could be the way the wind made the grand by heavy tent material push against a chair, causing it to creak and put it on an angle as if it would fall over, but it never did. 

The voice of the person walking in was welcome. Shutting the book, not marking the place, considering the first few pages were the only ones he managed to pass through. Reading, no matter how much his father enjoyed it and the lack of physical skill required was still not his thing.

[everett-balor]

“There is some irony in only thriving once the rest of the world has gone to shit.”  He said, the smirk on his lips was not laced with a creepy satisfaction, but instead a bitter understanding. He had been too late, too late to have a world in which he was in a place to be accepted and still a time to create a life he would be happy with. How long ago was his good deeds, how long would the feeling of guilt for purposely hurting someone who was already weak. 

[everett-balor]

He walked and scooped up the fallen handkerchief, he never understood the need for them besides giving someone their favour. Something he’d never formally received, or informally now he thought about it.

 He didn’t say a word, like he was scared he would jinx it, scared that he’d invoke one of Medusa’s curses. Instead he searched the crowd, waiting for anyone to claim ownership. He finally heard someone walking up in attempts to vocalise he could not help his small smirk, lacking the past creepiness and self deluded notion that he was owed it.

  “I never thought I would be so lucky.”

[everett-balor]

adela-quintana :

“If you’re insisting we don’t kill him why don’t we just turn him into a toad and let the animal kingdom go about on it’s natural course. He’s already as sweaty as one and I doubt anyone’s going to be looking for someone whose clearly hopping mad.” 

“P-please don’t kill me.” 

[everett-balor]

“E-Excuse me.” as soon as he said it he hated the stutter that came with it, taking in a deep breath he began to focus once again, adding more volume to his voice, managing not to get aggressive while doing so as he attempted again. “I think you dropped this.”

[everett-balor]

ariavale :

Aria blushed at his words, at his touch, her heart racing from nerves and from the man before her as she looked down at the shoes on her feet. “You are far too kind,” she said with a nervous laugh, “–my lord,” she added hastily, finally noticing his appearance. He didn’t seem to mind, but she knew he was entitled to such respect. “I’m–I’m alright, I think,” she said with a nod, shifting her gaze to look up at him. “Thank you for your concern. I just need to catch my breath a little.”

He almost wanted to chuckle. “Please, kind fits me about as well as the title of King...not at all.” he said matter of factly, though there was something odd about the way he talked, it was not piteous and any self loathing was hidden deep down. For once it felt healthy, untwisted, his stutter was still something he was struggling with but he had been practising, trying so hard but for once in the right direction. 

“Ah-why didn’t you say so.” he said starting to stand in front of her on the side of the street, watching people avoid him like the plague as they walked past, finally some use for his reputation. 

[everett-balor]

ariavale :

Aria collided against a man’s chest, her face instantly turning red at the contact. (It was the closest she’d been to a man in…Well, she couldn’t remember.) She blinked up at him, wide brown eyes searching his face, trying to see if she knew him–even if she didn’t, he had saved her life. Such familiarity was allowed in these circumstances.

She flashed him a hesitant smile, taking a step back once he’d released her. “My lord, you are far too kind: you save my life then proceed to compliment me–I fear my debt will never be repaid.” Her smile turned more genuine the more she spoke, feeling her discomfort ease slightly.

“Please, no need to be in such a debt, you have already repaid me through brightening up what seemed to be a quite dull day.” he said sincerely, unable to help his hands from holding her shoulders for a split second, remembering who he was and how he it had been drilled into him that he appeared he retracted them, hiding them behind his back lightly as they continued to sweat and shake. “Are you quite alright? not too winded? frights can be horrible for the nervous system.” 

[everett-balor]

hamish-vitello :

Hamish exhaled softly. The sight of the blood dripping from Everett’s nose in a dark crimson-red was more satisfying than he had expected. He usually loathed and feared violence in equal measure, but this… this had felt startlingly good. This had felt as if there still resided some kind of strength inside of him, some kind of power in his hands - if not in his legs.

Everett had the uncanny ability to immediately snatch that brief sense of victory away. The taunts only reminded Hamish of his flaws, his many imperfections, the brittle cracks in his thin veneer of Vitello pride. He knew there was nothing perfect about himself. Even the only thing he liked about himself, perhaps the only thing he could be proud of, his appearance - his mother’s appearance, her beauty turned handsome - was so easily belittled by Everett’s words.

“At least my mother still loves me,” he gritted out through his teeth, cursing himself a mere moment after the words left his mouth for that traitorous, too revealing still. In an attempt to cover it up, he curled his hands into fists again. He ignored the throbbing of his leg. He was weak, but not that weak. Hamish could hear his breath thundering in his ears. He would never be king, but he had the blood of kings flowing through veins. Who was Everett to reduce him to no more than a cripple, forced to rely on his family’s charity and might? How dare he?

But was Everett wrong? Was he wrong? Was he…?

Perhaps it was that which made Hamish finally roar with impotent rage and push forward at the same time as Everett did, fists pounding into Everett’s chest over and over even while one of Everett’s feet swung up - and kicked. There was a long, torturous moment of disconnect, even when he sensed the heel of the boot slamming against his leg, even when his knee buckled, even when he began to fall… when the pain had not hit him yet.

Until his knee crashed against the floor, and Hamish screamed.

He couldn’t help but cackle at his statement, for a boy like him perhaps his mothers love meant something but in his life it had become nothing but an obviously unattainable fantasy. His laugh made some blood from his nose splatter, starting to drip over his front two teeth, the taste of iron, one he had tasted so many times before. “You think that’s going to hurt me? please prince, we aren’t all as sensitive as maidens.” he said pointedly, fury running through him, remembering his brothers, go for the weakest point, it does not need to be a noble fight but one to win, he was born to a family of Titans for fucks sake, time he acted like it...

But as he heard the scream, as it pierced his ears as he watched the boy fall flat, the impact would have done damage to anyone but him- He stumbled back, peasants growing fearful, running before they could be seen in such a situation. Everett ran as white as a ghost, his body started to shiver as the sweat and the stuttering breaths threatened to come back. He looked, he should have offered help but it would just be seen as pity for an already fallen fighter. So Everett did what he did best, he acted like a coward. 

He began to run, getting towards the smallest market he could find. “Someone! Help-the prince, he’s been attacked, he-h-he needs a healer.” he bellowed out, waiting to be sure someone had heard and responded, luckily after the damage that had been going around the city many did rounds trying to aid the less fortunate. Seeing someone heading towards the direction he continued to run, as fast as his feet would take him.

[everett-balor]

The gift of coping

[everett-balor]

serina-odell :

everett-balor :

@serina-odell

He had spent the day after his interaction with the young lady Odell trying to work out her predicament, for once filled with something beyond trying to be what people wanted to him to be. He had told no one of this, so the fear of fucking it up was reduced by being known by no one but him.

Searching through his room of passed on crap from both his family and those he found himself fond of he finally found something that would most certainly be gold. It was designed by a bored Marcellus, a grotesque figure that he decided looked a bit like a giant shit eating another. He had set up everything for Everett to feel as if he was finally passing on something of sentiment and thought, he had also laughed loudly as the younger brother had teared up over it. He could see the fool he had played, he was becoming increasingly…aware and it both hurt and helped him begin to thrive. 

He went down to the facilities outside the main castle, finding someone that had accepted it due to her husbands ability to melt the giant gold turds into coins, she agreed to help.  Together they collaborated, after a large amount of the day was done he folded up the cloth and walked to where he knew the Odell girl was boarding. 

Knocking on the Lady’s door he left the folded material down by her door. He started to walk off, not doing it for recognition but instead some intention of aiding whatever made her chest constrict, being trapped where the goddess of the moon did not belong. 

When Lady Odell unfolded the thick pieces of material she would find dark black velvet curtains, the ability to block out the sun and reduce the hot air from seeping through. When they were put up the sun would start to shine through, roughly cut holes that were embroidered with a slightly reflective silk. It gave the illusion of the stars twinkling in the night sky, accessible now to her at any time of the day, able to give her a sanctuary, somewhere calm, something he had personally wished for. 

@everett-balor

As the sun rose to call upon the new day, Serina had once again locked herself within her room after a long night of unexpected conversations; her bed providing her shelter from the unknown the sunlight held. Very few things ever pulled her from her chambers until the sun’s light was a mirror reflection off of the Moon - her mother often being the main reason- yet today a new experience pulled her out into the unfamiliar warmth of the day. 

It was not often that a member of the residences’ workers disturbed the girl beyond her handmaidens or a meal she had been reluctant to go and fetch herself, but today a man she only usual saw in the entrance of her home rapped upon her door. With an obvious knowledge of the Lady’s habits, he merely stated before returning to his post, ❝ A gift awaits you at the front door, M’lady. I will see to it that no one touches it until you come to receive it. ❞

Frozen as she heard the man’s footsteps fade from her corridor, Serina instincts instructed her to merely roll over within her sheets and seek comfort once more in her sleep. However, an unknown force held the woman from her nocturnal schedule and compelled her to adventure into the late sunlight.

Cautiously rising from her bed, out of her chambers, down her corridor, and down the staircase, numerous confused glances joined the Lady on her foreign journey. Formal greetings arriving late and rushed as if they were seeing a ghost in the light of day, Serina simply nodded as her mind stood perplexed itself. Who would be dropping off a gift at such an hour? Moreover, who would even be dropping off a gift in the first place? 

With these thoughts weighing heavily on her mind, the young Lady Odell finally reached the front door of the Odell household and took her first steps into sunlight in quite some time. Kneeling gently as her eyes carefully scanned the neatly folded fabric, she tried to determine whether or not the fabric was the gift or if it were concealing something. Lifting the fabric as a whole at first, her hands could not detect anything beyond or within the clothes yet took a moment to embrace the luxurious feel of the dark velvet. After allowing a moment for her hands to explore the softness of the gift, her fingers gently opened the large sheet to reveal the true surprise. Raising her arms as to gain a better look of the artistry that was the tapestry, a smile quickly spread over her lips and her eyes began to glow just as they did when they gazed upon the night sky. Her mouth speechless as her eyes could now the light softly finding the finer details of the curtains, Serina’s pulled the cloth in closer and used her delicate fingers to trace over the true craftsmanship of the piece.

Finally finding her words after she explored the gift for an unknown amount of time on the front stoop, her brilliant smile remained as she turned her head to the man who had called for her in the first place. ❝ And to who do I have to thank for such a gift as this?… I pray you took their name. ❞ 

Yet unfortunately, his response provided no such answer. ❝ No, m’lady. It was found with your name and that is all.  ❞

Somewhat discourage but elated just the same, Serina returned her gaze to her family’s courtyard then yelled out into the trees and flowers, ❝ Thank you! ❞ A childish giggle softly pulling from her chest as her unladylike action was surely to catch her mother’s attention, however her current joy did not care. While her words would most likely fall upon deaf ears, she continued in a softer tone, ❝ I truly appreciate this gift and I wish I could formally thank you for such a beautiful offering… From the bottom of my heart, thank you. ❞ And so with one last smile, Serina quickly returned to her chambers with her new gift tightly wrapped in her arms. While her pace was faster than before, it was not to escape the sun’s last lights, but so that she could appreciate the sunlight for the first time in years.

[everett-balor]

hamish-vitello :

Gods, he was disgusting. Hamish’s mouth twisted while his arm continued to propel Everett into unconsciousness, just so he would finally stop looking at Hamish like he could see right through him, deep down to his rotten, pathetic core. Visceral, ugly anger roiled in his stomach. It was always there in the background, this helpless, utterly pointless rage at his crippled leg, at the sniggers and derisive glances, at the entire cruel world (at himself, most of all) - and for once, Hamish allowed himself to be swept along on the tide of it. 

“Now who’s the one not fighting back, hm?” Hamish sneered in Everett’s ear. Everett’s mouth limply opened and closed, like some dying fish gasping for air. His arm was an iron vice around Everett’s throat, and there was something darkly satisfying about slowly, slowly choking the air from him. Only when Everett’s resistance ebbed and he slumped against him, did Hamish begin to fractionally release his grip. He wanted to teach the prick a lesson, not permanently maim him-

An elbow slammed into his stomach. Caught by surprise more than pain - Everett’s arm was only a thin, flabby thing - Hamish released him and nearly stumbled. A spasm of pain shot through his leg at the sudden movement, and he had to grit his teeth not to cry out. His cheeks reddened with shame and then anger. Damn it. No. He refused to give Everett the satisfaction of knowing that he was right, that Hamish was…

That Hamish was weak, no matter how desperately wanted to prove that plain fact to be false.

How was it that even when Everett was coughing, gasping for air, he still did not shut up? Hamish’s hands itched. Though both of them had stumbled away from each other, the distance was so short he could cross it in a few steps and push Everett in the chest, hard. “Not even close,” he said in a rush of air, his fist already flying at Everett’s jaw before he’d finished speaking.

He stumbled back, wiping the blood from his nose with his sleeves, watching people gather around. Their eyes looked towards royalty seeing the damage to be done. Sure Everett was just as bad but he finally had an advantage. No one cared. They would see the prince rise and fall, try and prove himself as something he wasn’t. Trying to prove himself as strong. No. In Everett’s mind Hamish was not strong. 

He had been given things to him even now, his leg may have hurt and he could not discount that considering the way he walked. But he was still so privileged. His mother, perhaps one as cruel as his still loved him. Still cared, would still do anything if she saw her son hurt. All Ev was ever given was tough love, he tried and tried and tried but his own mother did not love him, did not care for him, his father perhaps had something...something to do with connection to the Balor name and the fact he had not found a way to erase that. But he spent his love on other things, on maidens with flowery hair and sharp tongues, because they were the ones that deserved the attention. 

“Pretty little prince with the perfect hair.” he said, spitting out some of the bile that had risen with the choke hold. “Mother still loves you like you were a king.”  he said, his words twisting into almost a sickening nervous song. “Who needs legs when with the snap of your perfect fingers any would bow and carry you on their backs-” his mind went back to the Olympians, how much enjoyment they got out of his  families suffering, how perhaps this life was giving him the pain he should have had then. The people he should have stayed with. HIS PEOPLE.

“If you could not get their attention i am sure your mother could.” he said, running forward, face still purple, one eye beginning to bulge, his leg going exactly for where it would hurt the most, kicking towards the bone of his crippled leg. 

[everett-balor]

ariavale :

News of the free folk revolt spread through the city of Westedell like a disease, infecting the minds and words of every person until it was the only subject of which anyone would speak. Such talk, such rumors (as she very much hoped they were) filled her own thoughts as she walked the streets of the market. She thought of Cyra, and her promise to get her an audience with the Lady Astrid to give her life purpose. She thought of the Prince Hamish, and his promise to take her to the King, to inquire if he would give her a position amongst the lords and ladies that resided there.

But the revolt…The treachery within those walls…

Aria paused her walk, clutching her basket at her side, as she cast a dubious glance over the looming walls of the castle. Was her desire to return to courtly life so great that she would risk her own neck to do so?

“Watch out!”

She felt an hand seize her arm and yank her backwards. She was about to protest, squirming against the force of the hand, when she realized a runaway horse and cart had barreled through the very spot she had stood upon.

She looked behind her, startled and a little frightened. “Thank you,” she said breathlessly, pushing a smile at her rescuer. “I–I must have been too lost in my thoughts to hear him coming.”

He pulled her by the wrist twirling her inwards to safety. He had seen the madden loose charging cart from miles a way, a small tsk escaping, similar to the one his Aunt would give when he ran towards the knights horses, trying to do what Marcellus had done- or said he had done. 

“Careful Miss, the Keep has lost too many fine faces to such horrid accidents, I’d hate for one of the rare remaining ones to go the same w-way.” he said, moving his hand behind his back, lightly pinching his arm, maddened by the fact that he had let a stutter through. He had been doing so well he had stopped being the sweating fear holding-shit his pants at a sudden loud sound man and instead was actually starting to transform into something resembling a slightly useful sweaty mess for the Balor line. He found himself in his element, finally beating out any remaining doubts with Hamish and finding a path to something that actually deserved to be loved, instead of just internally blaming everyone else for the lack of. It was working, it was close to a miracle, a very slow, still nervous wreck of a miracle. 

[everett-balor]

hamish-vitello :

As Everett smirked at him, Hamish was caught by the odd, disquieting sensation of having played right into his hands. He found it hard to care; he just wanted to finally wipe that stupid smirk off that coward’s face. How dare he act like was any better than Hamish? How fucking dare he? Everett was as much of a pathetic failure of a human being as Hamish was. He was weak and useless and so easily detested. He was piteous and wretched and absolutely worthless. And why? Why, when he could still walk without pain and be strong and act like a proper man if he would just put his mind to it and try?

Hamish hated him and wanted to be him in equal measure, and he loathed himself for that even worse than he did Everett.

“Shut up!” he growled. Hamish charged forward, dropping his cane to clatter against the floor. Both adrenaline and the brace hidden under his trousers eased the pain of standing on his bad leg with his full weight, although he was sure he would feel it later. It was worth it. Pure exhilaration rushed through him when he feigned a punch at Everett’s face. As the boy’s arm rose to block it, Hamish’s hand slipped underneath to grab the lapels of his doublet and aggressively turn him, slipping an arm around his throat in a chokehold as he did so. Even with his slouch, he was a few inches taller than Everett, he noted smugly. “I am not weak,” Hamish hissed in Everett’s ear, roughly exerting pressure on his windpipe. “I’m not!” He was not weak, he wasn’t, he wasn’t, he wasn’t - a mantra that, if he repeated it long enough, he might actually believe someday.

Ev was starting to see black dots appearing without even blinking. His sweat continued to drench him, causing his robes to cling to his shoulder blades, his ill- fitting  coat starting to slide off at the shoulders exposing pale skin and veins running vibrantly next to the awkwardly bruised patches. He began to gurgle lightly, foamy saliva (due to general dehydration, the sweat taking out most of the liquid he drank) forming towards the corners of his mouth, his canines sticking out of his chapped lips as his lanky shoulders began to rise and fall against him, his breath turned into a distressed gasp, desperate for any kind of air, toxic or not he’d currently take it. 

This was where the fear would normally take over, where he would be compelled to run, to abandon to repeat the mistakes of his past self over and over again. If he ran from this he was not just losing a fight, he was losing the chance to prove that he could break fates design, that he could rise above, that he could become better, tolerable at the least. His arms flailed which must have looked pathetic to an outside source but eventually he felt enough force, he swung his elbow back, trying to get him winded at least but missing the target just enough to hope to be let go.  

When he managed to break out he stumbled back, coughing as he did, his footwork uneven, still waiting for him to become less light headed with the new found air in his lungs. 

“Is that-that all you got?”

[everett-balor]

hamish-vitello :

He did not flinch back, although part of him certainly wanted to; Everett was close enough that Hamish could smell his rank breath. There was something deliberately dismissive, something terribly grating, in the way Everett picked up and studied that wine glass. As if Hamish wasn’t even worthy of his proper consideration. 

Suddenly the tables had turned. Yes, why didn’t Hamish fight back? Because he was craven and feeble and useless, and they both knew it. It was an insidious weakness, one that had nestled itself inside of him even before he had been crippled, and it was as if Everett could sense that and twist it to use in his own favor. Little prince, Everett called him, and Hamish felt very small indeed. 

He was so godsdamned tired of being overlooked.

As he turned to watch Everett walk away, back straight and pace smooth in a way Hamish would never, ever be able to imitate again, something inside of him snapped. For gods’ sake, he refused to be even more pathetic and cowardly than Everett Balor, of all people. “Stop!” Hamish called, the command ringing out with surprising authority. “You’re itching for a fight that much, Balor? Fine. You can have one.”

He looked over, a small smirk playing in the corner of his lips, turning back to face him. He had been taught by (quite possibly through the cruelest and most grueling) experience. There was always a weakness and Hamish VItello’s was obvious, in fact it was if it had been pushed on the stage and the caller had yelled out to all the land that without even that much effort he could be brought down. That for once Epimethius would have the chance to someone in the fetal position, crying, with little to no effort. It was easy, but then again, all the attacks on him had been just as much. 

How many times had many gone after him seeing him as nothing more than a fool, to be trapped by Pandora just through his basic desire to want what he was always told to long for. Here, now, he could be powerful and against a Vitello on top of that, not even his father could grow mad. Had their family not been struck with the items of his past self, had he not seen the gods rain down on them as if they were insects at the bottom of the bucket. He had followed his brother to the other side and now he had to make it right. If anything his father could write it off as being Ev’s idiocy, even the Vitello’s would believe it since his reputation proved true here at The Keep. He could cause pain and with only a small effort his family could watch and know themselves as distanced from it. 

“There we go little prince, pretending to be as strong as your brothers, I mean, I am not one to talk but at least I have somewhat of a chance.” he walked forward, glad that others had seen him bite onto the bait. It was public. Good. 

“Come get me.” he sneered, readying for whatever attack he hobbled forward with. 

[everett-balor]

The gift of coping

@serina-odell

He had spent the day after his interaction with the young lady Odell trying to work out her predicament, for once filled with something beyond trying to be what people wanted to him to be. He had told no one of this, so the fear of fucking it up was reduced by being known by no one but him.

Searching through his room of passed on crap from both his family and those he found himself fond of he finally found something that would most certainly be gold. It was designed by a bored Marcellus, a grotesque figure that he decided looked a bit like a giant shit eating another. He had set up everything for Everett to feel as if he was finally passing on something of sentiment and thought, he had also laughed loudly as the younger brother had teared up over it. He could see the fool he had played, he was becoming increasingly...aware and it both hurt and helped him begin to thrive. 

He went down to the facilities outside the main castle, finding someone that had accepted it due to her husbands ability to melt the giant gold turds into coins, she agreed to help.  Together they collaborated, after a large amount of the day was done he folded up the cloth and walked to where he knew the Odell girl was boarding. 

Knocking on the Lady’s door he left the folded material down by her door. He started to walk off, not doing it for recognition but instead some intention of aiding whatever made her chest constrict, being trapped where the goddess of the moon did not belong. 

When Lady Odell unfolded the thick pieces of material she would find dark black velvet curtains, the ability to block out the sun and reduce the hot air from seeping through. When they were put up the sun would start to shine through, roughly cut holes that were embroidered with a slightly reflective silk. It gave the illusion of the stars twinkling in the night sky, accessible now to her at any time of the day, able to give her a sanctuary, somewhere calm, something he had personally wished for. 

[everett-balor]

serina-odell :

Her shoulders easing as the distance increased between the two, Serina finally felt comfortable to take a deeper breath into her lungs; her head beginning to feel light headed as she unintentionally held her breath due to his previous close proximity. Once her chest was full of air once more, her voice spoke more even in reply. ❝ If I could dwell merely in the light of the Moon, I would, ❞ she admitted, her eyes shifting constantly back and forth between the sky and the young Balor. ❝ But the world demands that the day is for dwelling so- ❞ she paused, her eyebrows falling slightly as such a thought caused anxiety to well in her chest. ❝ So I embrace as much as I can before I return to the Sun. ❞

He noticed her becoming anxious, it hung on her and after years and years of constantly falling victim to such symptoms, dazed eyes, chest rising, breath becoming harder, gulping as if your throat began to constrict. She was not only fond of the night, she almost seemed terrified of the day, he did not feel anything like pity, but a strong pang of sympathy ran through him ( something never felt outside Paxton, their twin bond tended to stir that, however perhaps it was mostly guilt). “I have never seen someone belong to such a setting before, it must be exhausting, forced to hide who you are because it is what society deems as agreeable.” He looked down, moving away from her lightly, giving her more space instead of crowding her. “We must do something about it.” 

[everett-balor]

iapetxs :

      How to be honest? 

                      ( Sometimes to be honest was to be cruel. )

      “Everett.” His voice lowered. “Epimetheus. If I did not love you, you would not be alive. I love all of you, as you are all my children. My blood. I did not stop loving you when you joined Zeus; I will not stop loving you no matter what you do. It is my greatest failing, how much I love the children my wife bore me.” He loved them more than she did, that much was certain and forever unspoken. He was the one who had been by Everett and Aethan’s bedsides whenever they were ill while his Clymene only had patience for the sons who reminded her of him. 

      With a sigh, Iapetus moved a hand to the top of the smaller blond’s head. A gentle touch; a ruffle of his hair. “Don’t try to make me proud, my son. Just try to keep us safe. After all,” and there was a twist to his smile, as though the words hurt to admit, “you’ve followed Paxton everywhere he’s led your whole life, and he hasn’t made me proud in centuries.” 

“ I never followed him to Zeus to hurt you-” he said, this was one of his only kept secrets, the one that would keep him up, wondering if he had done the right thing, wondering if he could have done more. “I did because I thought I owed it. After all the mistakes, after all the pain I caused him. I never meant to hurt the family, I never meant to divide, you in-that hell it still kills me father, that I could fuck up so badly as to separate the bond that is strong that the Olympians, stronger than the Vitello’s. I should not have-I should have not done a lot of the things I have done.”

He knew what his father was saying, his mother had never cared for him, nor did think she ever would, she saw Paxton and Marcellus as the boys who were hers, Aethan and Ev were merely just something that happened a long the way.  Most of the time he wondered if she ever remembered he existed, paid him any thought. Many times he had watched her walk past as if he was not even as valuable as the possessions the held in their house. It was her nature.

His body went to seize up, only to find gentle affection, it was confusing, it was alien but it had made him feel like he was worth more than he had considered possible for years, and that was close to none. “I-” he began to stutter, breathing it down. “-will not let you down. Not this time, you are the reason I am here, this family is.”

[everett-balor]

phyllisbalor :

Phyllis lifted a thoroughly unimpressed eyebrow at his self-pity. “Did I not tell you,” she said carefully, “that there is honor in the trying? You will never become a better person if you give up hope on yourself, Everett.”

“I have spent my life trying I am tired of trying, it exhausts me and in the end I end up making situations worse than they were, it is better for me to stand back, to let life go on and try and make as little impact as humanly possible and perhaps find a way to make you proud some other way.”