𝙒𝙃𝙀𝙍𝙀 𝙄𝙎 𝙈𝙔 𝙈𝙄𝙉𝘿?

𝙤𝙝  𝙬𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚  𝙝𝙖𝙨  𝙢𝙮  𝙈𝙄𝙉𝘿  𝙂𝙊𝙉𝙀  ？

[everlost]

short  &  sweet  !  my  name  is  si.  i’m  twenty - six,  she  /  her.  i  work  full - time  as  a  WEB  /  EMAIL  DEVELOPER  (  aka  i  code  things  ),  and  when  time  permits,  i  write  LUCAS  D’ORLEANS.

QUICK  LINKS  : 𝚐𝚘𝚘𝚐𝚕𝚎  𝚍𝚘𝚌.  rules,  character  overview,  verses. 𝚛𝚙  𝚖𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚜.  * for  mutuals  only.  

OTHER  BLOG(S)  : VIRUSFOUGHT,  chris  redfield  from  capcom’s  resident  evil  franchise. SHITGIVEN,  johnny  jaqobis  from  the  syfy  series,  killjoys. 

[everlost]

hey  all !  figured  i  should  probably  make  this  post  since  it’s  been  dead  over  here.  work  has  been  crazy,  and  i  just  haven’t  really  felt  up  to  maintaining  three  blogs  all  at  once.  not  dropping  lucas,  just  might  be  radio  silent  over  here  for  a  while  until  things  finally  slow  down.  in  the  meantime,  you  can  still  find  me  over  on  chris  (  @virusfought  )  and  tate  (  @daciaurum  ).

thanks  !

[everlost]

myersmemes​:

bittersweet   rp   meme.

i’m not going to leave you.

i didn’t mean to hurt you.

… stay with me?

it’s okay. i still love you.

everything’s okay now.

let’s just forget about it, okay?

you can cry. i won’t judge.

i’m trying. i really am.

do you want a hug?

can we… lay here? and do nothing?

i’m sorry if i made you angry.

can you tell me what i did wrong?

please come back. i’m sorry.

hey… is something wrong?

you can stay with me. 

i’m here, i’m here.

what do i have to do to make you happy?

…i care about you a lot, you know.

why do you still care about me?

c’mere. lean on me.

you look like you need a hug.

just stay a little longer. please.

please stay with me. i don’t want to be alone.

i’ll stay as long as you need me to.

it was always you.

i’ll come back for you. i promise.

i would be lost without you.

what would you say if i told you i’m in love with you?

you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.

i wish you could see how much i need you.

all i want is for you to be happy.

the thought of losing you makes it hard to breathe.

i’ve missed you.

why did you come back?

why did you leave?

i thought you were dead.

not a day goes by without me thinking about us.

what we had were special. i can’t let that go.

would you do it all again if you had the chance?

there are things i just can’t explain.

i guess i just never figured you out.

i know you can’t forgive me.

i want you to want to stay.

why do you look at me that way?

[everlost]

𝙿𝙾𝚁𝚃𝚁𝙰𝙸𝚃𝚂𝚃𝙾𝙻𝙴𝙽 .

finger moves to her glasses to push it up a little on her nose and then her attention is back on the SCREEN  ,  question answered with a soft humm.  it’s no secret she usually doesn’t get much sleep but tonight she hasn’t even made an effort  —  why even bother putting on pjs and roll in bed at least a thousand times before the alarm goes off.  “ not really.  ‘m trying to get tired enough looking at this month’s weather predictions  ,  but that DOESN’T seem to work. ”  maybe she should just put the phone away  —  that would probably help her get on a night mindset.  “ is there too much light?  i can switch it off if it bothers you. ”

@everlost·  /  “Can’t sleep?”

❝  doesn’t  bother  me,  ❞  lucas  dismisses  quietly.  easily.  there  are  very  few  things  that  could  keep  the  frenchman  from  sleep,  and  red’s  phone  is  far  from  up  to  the  task.  he’d  awoken  for  a  much  less  tangible  reason.  maybe  he  was  thirsty,  maybe  hungry  . . .  maybe  his  body  just  decided  it’s  had  its  fill  of  sleep  for  the  night.  either  way,  it  hardly  seems  right  to  leave  her  without  company  now  that  he  is  awake.  

so,  with  a  stiff  groan,  he  lowers  himself  onto  the  couch  beside  her.  ❝  anything  interesting  ?  should  i  bring  a  raincoat  on  our  next  mission  ?  ❞  a  soft  smile  accompanies  his  teasing  questions.  ❝  invest  in  a  pair  of  those  rubber  rain  boots,  peut - être  ?  ❞

[everlost]

𝙼𝙸𝚂𝙴𝚁𝙴𝚃𝙴𝙽𝚄𝙴 .

                                 @everlost·· said : ❛ you’re it , you’re my person . ❜

                                                            to those we love

for a long time , he’s felt utterly alone . still reeling from grief that he’s simply just never been able to let go of . what makes it worse sometimes is having to watch nicky and joe gallivant around with their story of combat and love . its one for the ages and he’ll always be happy for them but there are moments like now that he’s had to excuse himself because that ache of loneliness simply becomes too much . 

the rain pounds on the roof of the safe house as he makes his way out onto the covered porch . one bottle in a hand and a cigarette in the other . he doesn’t smoke often but when he does there’s a lot running through his mind . seems like he’s been doing that a lot lately . footsteps can be heard coming up behind him , and they’re familiar . booker knows them all by now and it goes doubly so with lucas . there’s hesitation in his steps , always is with how unsure he is about the world . 

what does surprise him though is the hand on his shoulder . you’re it , you’re my person . the words come as a surprise . they’ve grown closer and booker actually shows that HE CARES for lucas . not just the facade of a fully stable wall he might hold for others . they all know he does but he just carries himself differently than the rest . he flicks the cigarette out into the rain and nods his head unsure of what to say at first before nodding and gripping lucas around his shoulder . 

the other may be forgetful and lost more often than not but he’s not dumb while being wildly observant . he leans over to press his head against lucas’ . ❝  oui . and i’ll never forget it .  ❞ the grip tightens as a silent indication that the feeling is very much mutual . 

lucas  is  never  sure  if  he’s  INTRUDING  on  nights  like  this.  not  because  he’s  not  perceptive  ;  no,  that,  at  least,  is  a  skill  he  seems  to  have  in  spades.  knowing  those  around  him,  reading  their  moods.  but  booker  in  particular  . . .  he’s  difficult.  tonight,  he  takes  the  gamble,  encroaches  on  personal  space  and  hopes  his  attempt  isn’t  rebuffed.  what  he  isn’t  expecting  is  to  have  it  welcomed.  the  way  booker  pulls  him  in  instead  of  pushing  him  away  or  even  simply  keeping  carefully  curated  distance  between  them.

the  smell  of  cigarette  smoke  and  liquor  reach  his  nose  as  he  leans  into  unexpected  touch,  but  he  finds  just  this  once  that  it  doesn’t  bother  him  all  that  much.  a  small  price  to  pay  for  this  rare  allowance  beyond  the  walls  his  fellow  frenchman  so  often  surrounds  himself  with.  at  booker’s  comment,  a  smile  finds  its  way  to  lucas’  lips.  ❝  that’s  good  . . .  ❞  he  says  quietly.  almost  reverently,  as  if  speaking  too  loud  might  break  whatever  spell  has  fallen  between  them.  ❝   one  of  us  should  remember,  and  my  track  record  . . .  leaves  a  bit  to  be  desired.  ❞

[ivyelaineswann-deactivated20210]

Sometimes the only way to return is to go where the winds will take you, and to let go of all you cannot hold onto

Josh Garrels, Beyond the Blue (via ivyelaineswann)

[everlost]

𝙴𝚅𝙴𝚁𝙺𝙽𝙸𝙶𝙷𝚃 .

          lucas had been a wonder since the first time they met.  their bodies could heal any number of miraculous things but, for some reason, had taken away parts of the other immortal’s memories.  none of them could ever figure out why.  there’d been theories tossed back and forth between himself and joe.  unfortunately, since they still had no idea how any of it worked that’s all they would remain.  theories.  maybe if they spent more time locked up.  maybe if there’d been more tests.  so many maybes.  at least they’d have answers, right?

           while merrick’s righteous doctor poked and prodded the blessing that came was the discovery of what was in lucas’s head in place of memories.  or, maybe it was a curse.  it wasn’t nicky’s place to judge.  all he knew was the pain radiating through the door and his inability to ease it.

         scooting closer to the door, the knight presses his forehead against the wood.  deep breaths help find his center but play no part in bringing forth the right words.  what were they?  were there even any?  nicky could easily see the light at the end of the tunnel but he also wasn’t living lucas’s nightmare.  it wasn’t his pain.  of course he could rationalize through it.

         several times his lips part but no sound comes out.  “ we’re here now, lucas, “ the knight finally says through the door.  “ there has to be some good in there.  i can’t begin to imagine how overwhelming getting it all back at once can be.  can you pick out something good?  let’s try to focus on that and go from there. “

something  good.  something  good.  something  good.  he  wracks  his  brain  for  it,  but  it’s  like  searching  for  a  single,  specific  photo  in  an  unruly  pile.  moments  in  time,  all  jumbled  and  out  of  order.  SOMETHING  GOOD.  once,  twice  he  knocks  his  head  back  against  the  cabinet  he’s  taken  to  leaning  against.  as  if  it  might  re - shuffle  things  about  and  make  his  search  a  little  easier.  but  . . .  wait.  it’s  not  a  memory,  not  so  much.  but  a  feeling  of  one.  sensations,  smells  and  touch  in  particular.

❝  sugar.  the  whole  house,  it  smelled  like  cooking  sugar.  ❞  he  had  a  house,  then.  he  can’t  remember  the  details  of  it.  an  old  wood  stove,  maybe.  but  that  smell,  he  knows,  and  a  woman’s  voice  humming  out  a  soft  melody.  he  clings  to  the  memory,  in  whatever  form  it  takes.  just  as  nicky  said  to  do.  and  it  helps,  it  really  does.  not  immediately,  but  bit  by  bit,  he  feels  the  vise  slipping  from  his  chest.  screams  and  the  stench  of  death,  drowned  out  by  caramel  and  a  familiar  tune.

the  details  follow.  attached  by  narrow,  slippery  threads  of  memory.  that  house,  small  and  sparsely  decorated.  it  was  the  first  house  he’d  ever  properly  owned  ―  the  last  one,  too.  he  remembers  smoke  and  curses.  ❝  she  couldn’t  cook  for  shit,  nicky.  my  wife.  she  couldn’t,  she  was  a  disaster.  but  she  could  make  pralines.  she’d  make  them  to  sell  and  the  whole  house,  ❞  a  quiet  laugh,  warmer  than  the  last,  ❝  mon  dieu,  the  whole  house  would  smell  like  caramel  and  almonds.  ❞

[everlost]

𝙼𝙸𝚂𝙴𝚁𝙴𝚃𝙴𝙽𝚄𝙴 .

             the others might not see him as anything other than a drunk . hell , he doesn’t know but he doesn’t particularly care either . drinking is what helps lull him into a state where the nightmares are still there , but he doesn’t care as much . it makes them bearable . it makes the LONELINESS bearable . after being banished the drinking got worse , ( no one thought that was possible ) much much worse . nothing ever goes away , not like he thought it would , but still he’ll keep using this . it doesn’t work as much as he’d like no matter how much he tells himself that it does . if it did why would he look for such extreme ways to make it all STOP . 

❝  when have i ever ?? ❞ he scoffs tilting his head away . the perpetual state of fatigue is just a part of him now , that has only gotten worse with what he’s done . the guilt eats away like a parasite and the nightmares attach to the bones like cement . no reason to bother anyone else with how the existential crisis will be the death of him , but of course he isn’t that lucky . even out of exile he is still banished , at least of his own accord .

nothing any of them could ever say will undo what he’s done , or take away the remorse he feels for almost destroying them all and ruining them to capture for who knows how long . no one could ever hate him as much as he hates himself and that thought only wants to will him to drink more . taking a swig from the bottle , booker shakes his head . ❝  i’m to blame for that one i’m sure , so don’t let me do anymore damage by continuing to keep you awake .  i’ve done enough . ❞

lucas  can’t  be  certain  how  long  quynh  had  booker  captive  ―  maybe  he  was  told  at  one  point,  but  things  get  so  easily  lost  in  a  sea  of  resurfacing  memories  these  days  that  he  no  longer  recalls.  all  he  knows  is  that,  much  like  right  now,  booker  has  been  DROWNING  HIMSELF  long  before  quynh  ever  put  him  under  water.  and  they  did  nothing.  did  they  think  it  would  sort  itself  out  in  time  ?  or  was  everyone  just  as  powerless  and  directionless  as  lucas  as  to  how  to  help  ?

it  doesn’t  matter  now  ;  damage  is  done,  and  the  only  thing  left  is  to  rebuild.  it  won’t  be  like  it  was  before,  it  can’t  be,  but  lucas  has  hope  that  there  can  still  be  something  good  to  come  of  all  of  this  bad.  ❝  you  are,  ❞  he  mumbles  once  booker  has  said  his  piece.  no  point  in  lying  or  false  assurances.  ❝  but  if  it  wasn’t  for  you,  i’d  still  be  lucas  of  nowhere,  with  nothing.  guess  you  could  say  we’re  even.  ❞  he  wouldn’t  have  said  so  six  or  even  two  months  ago,  for  sure.  it  took  a  long  time  to  find  himself  again  in  the  flood  of  centuries  worth  of  lost  memories  now  so  violently  restored.  that  he  sleeps  at  all  now  is  a  sign  of  things  returning  to  some  semblance  of  normal.

❝  and  even  if  we  weren’t,  ❞  he  adds  after  a  moment  of  quiet  has  fallen  between  them.  if  possible,  his  voice  is  even  quieter  than  before.  less  assured  of  the  admission  to  come  than  the  reassurances  that  came  before.  ❝  it  hasn’t  felt  right  without  you.  ❞  even  with  the  pieces  of  his  mind  slowly  coming  back  together,  a  critical  piece  was  missing  from  somewhere  else.  ❝  i  needed  my  friend  back,  book.  still  do.  ❞ 

[everlost]

𝙴𝚅𝙴𝚁𝙺𝙽𝙸𝙶𝙷𝚃 .

FROM: @everlost· RE: ‘ where’s my gun? ‘ STATUS: accepting

          the voice pulls him from his quiet thoughts.  before they go in nicky always carves out the time to center himself before they go off to fight.  this time his sheath is held out in front of him with the tip pointing towards the ground and the hilt between his intertwined fingers.  a hood covers his head as if to shield himself from all the noise around him.

           looking up, eyes fall on the other.  once the words register he looks around the immediate area.  the rest of the world was starting to come back into focus.  nicky heard the click of weapons and the movement of leather.  there was also the crunch of velcro and the distinctive ting of sharp blades.

            “ um, “  the knight’s gaze drops so he can start looking around.  a dull glint at the other side of the table catches his attention.  while it isn’t the gun in question he follows the line of light just a little further.  “ there. “  nicky pushes up from his seat to walk towards it.  

it’s  an  embarrassing  thing,  though  nicky  never  seems  to  hold  it  against  him.  maybe  that’s  why  nicky  is  usually  the  one  he  goes  to.  a  misplaced  book,  wayward  supplies  . . .  the  others  never  begrudge  him  his  absent - mindedness,  but  lucas  isn’t  blind  to  the  frustration  they  try  so  very  hard  not  to  show. 

❝  oh.  ❞  a  sheepish  smile,  and  lucas  falls  in  beside  nicky.  slightly  behind,  slightly  awkward.  why  did  he  put  it  there,  again  ?  he  could  have  sworn  he’d  put  it  in  its  holster  already,  but  then  maybe  he’s  mistaking  that  for  when  he’d  strapped  on  his  sword.  it’s  a  damned  miracle  they  keep  him  around.  part  of  him  wonders  sometimes  if  they  would,  if  not  for  whatever  force  it  is  that  seems  to  tether  them  together.  ❝  merci  mon  ami.  ❞

[ventimigrillo]

Oliver Jackson Cohen as Luke Crain ↳ the Haunting of Hill House 1.04 “the Twin Thing”  

[everlost]

⚜․ˑ‧  THE  LAST  OF  US  (  accepting  ) @serenitysought​  wrote  . . .  ❝ the others won’t be happy about this. ❞

the  only  thing  worse  than  no  intel  is  bad  intel.  their  contact,  the  one  who  turned  them  on  to  this  lead,  said  it  was  a  small  militia  group.  no  more  than  twenty  rural,  untrained  mercenaries.  easy  enough  for  the  immortals  to  contend  with.  but  this  . . .  this  is  very  much  not  that.

❝  they  did  say  it  would  be  a  small  force,  right  ?  that  doesn’t  look  small.  ❞  nor  does  it  look  particularly  untrained.  that  gear,  lucas  might  not  recognize  the  insignia,  but  he  knows  corporate  funding  when  he  sees  it.  MONEY  HAS  A  CERTAIN  LOOK,  even  in  battle  attire.  those  uniforms,  the  body  armor,  they  have  a  backer  with  a  lot  of  money.  someone  with  power  and  influence.  ❝  i  see  some  kind  of  insignia  on  their  sleeves,  but  i  can’t  make  out  anything  useful.  nothing  that  i  recognize  at  least.  ❞  but,  unfortunately,  that  isn’t  saying  much.  shapes,  brands,  logos  . . .  they  don’t  stick  around  for  long  in  this  jumbled  brain  of  his.  

[everlost]

𝙼𝙸𝚂𝙴𝚁𝙴𝚃𝙴𝙽𝚄𝙴 .

once he met her , the nightmares were supposed to stop . the sensation of drowning was meant to dissipate and fade away , but now he’s found himself with terrors of a different kind . quynh drowned him for hours and hours which is of pale comparison to her centuries but he couldn’t imagine having to endure that . 

booker glimpses around the room from where he sits in the corner , part of him has had a lot of time to think about the fact that one of his greatest fears is ending up alone and this was the punishment he was given ?? to what end would that serve ?? booker doesn’t regret trying to find an end to his seemingly endless suffering but he does have remorse for involving them all , almost killing andy . they are his family and his betrayal will not disappear overnight. 

the back of his head is pressed against the wall , bottle of whatever was laying around is clenched into his grasp at his side , he watches as lucas takes a place beside him . there’s a lot to say to his friend , lucas is really the only one that ever tried to understand him without trying to prod him into saying shit he wouldn’t want to say . what silence the other brings is appreciated since he isn’t quite sure what he would say anyway . 

‘ i’m sorry ‘ doesn’t seem to have the oomph he needs to convey his feelings about what he’s done .  ❝ Tu m'as manqué aussi ❞ its good to be back in the company of those he loves even if they might not find it in their hearts to return it just yet . hopefully in time .  

does  it  help  ?  lucas  finds  himself  wanting  to  ask.  the  bottle  he  sees  in  booker’s  hand,  the  smell  of  alcohol  on  his  breath,  and  part  of  him  wants  to  know  if  it  really  does  numb  the  pain  of  the  loss  he  now  feels  so  acutely.  does  it  make  it  go  away  ?  but,  no.  he  doesn’t  ask,  doesn’t  dare.  if  liquor  was  all  it  took,  surely  booker  wouldn’t  have  resorted  to  the  measures  he  took.  

❝  you  can’t  sleep  ?  ❞  he  asks  instead,  voice  still  only  just  loud  enough  to  be  heard  in  the  quiet  of  the  house.  is  it  the  guilt,  he  wonders  ?  or  the  nightmares.  maybe  both  . . .  probably  both,  he  decides.  one  or  the  other  might  be  bearable,  but  the  combination,  maybe  that’s  why  booker  has  pressed  himself  into  this  corner.  what  a  pair  they  make  now  ―  tin  man  with  a  broken  heart  and  the  scarecrow  with  his  broken  brain.  ❝  i  don’t  sleep  so  well  anymore  . . .  thought  maybe  we  could  at  least  not  sleep  together.  ❞

he  doesn’t  say  it’s  booker’s  fault,  doesn’t  point  out  the  role  he  played,  because  there  is  nothing  lucas  could  or  would  ever  say  that  would  hurt  booker  the  way  he  no  doubt  hurts  himself.  lucas  could  expel  EVERY  DROP  OF  VENOM  in  his  body,  and  it  wouldn’t  match  what  he  sees  in  the  eyes  that  won’t  quite  meet  his.  besides,  in  a  way,  they  did  fix  him.  lost  memories  slowly  returning,  even  out  of  order,  must  be  better  than  the  nothingness  that  he  had  before.  at  least  that’s  what  he  tells  himself.  each  day,  he  learns  more  about  who  he  was,  who  he  is.  he’d  like  to  think  he’s  the  KIND  OF  MAN  that  can  forgive  a  friend  who  was  in  pain.

[wasgentlearch]

“You will not ‘get over’ the loss of a loved one; you will learn to live with it. You will heal and you will rebuild yourself around the loss you have suffered. You will be whole again but you will never be the same. Nor should you be the same, nor would you want to.”

— Elisabeth Kubler-Ross and David Kessler  (via fyp-psychology)

[everlost]

𝙼𝙸𝚂𝙴𝚁𝙴𝚃𝙴𝙽𝚄𝙴 .

THE WAITING IS THE HARDEST PART . blue eyes fixate on the man downed and he can’t remember feeling this sick to his stomach in such a long time about one of them succumbing to their wounds .  its odd since he doesn’t tend to get this worked up even with andy when one of them falls but with lucas its DIFFERENT even if he can’t quite pinpoint why . 

a victorious laugh comes hearty and heavy when he finally comes to and booker’s hands are on him to help settle him . ❝ Je t'ai eu ,  ❞ coming back is never easy and always a painful process so the touch should hopefully provide some comfort for a grueling process of his body restarting itself .  another laugh leaves him , more of a chuckle than anything at the jest . ❝  there is no time for naps , let’s go , ❞ 

both hands stay glued to lucas as they maneuver forward , slow going with the slow rate at which lucas is healing but at least they aren’t sitting ducks . ❝  and it never will be . good thing you’re not alone . ❞

good  thing  you’re  not  alone.  lucas  doesn’t  think  booker  will  ever  know  the  significance  of  those  words,  or  of  the  silent  assurance  behind  them.  they’ve  all  spent  time  alone  ;  lucas  is  not  unique  in  that.  but  to  be  alone  and  unknown,  even  to  himself  . . .  that  had  been  a  different  sort  of  solitude.  for  the  longest  time,  he’d  thought  he  might  just  disappear,  untethered  and  unwanted  in  a  world  that  seemed  to  have  forgotten  him  as  thoroughly  as  he’d  forgotten  himself.  BUT  THEN  CAME  BOOKER.  it  wasn’t  immediate  by  any  means.  the  first  time  he’d  seen  him,  lucas  thought  he’d  lost  him  there  on  the  battlefield.  but  now  . . .

❝  oui,  je  sais,  no  time,  ❞  lucas  grounds  out,  and  makes  no  attempt  to  stop  hands  from  their  instinctive  grip  on  booker’s  coat.  holding  on  as  much  as  holding  himself  up.  a  heavy  groan  and  a  faltering  step  that  nearly  has  him  stumbling.  it’s  a  fortunate  thing  booker  is  so  closely  matched  in  size,  otherwise  lucas  might  feel  more  guilty  for  burdening  him  in  this  way.  his  stomach  turns  a  bit  ―  he  can’t  be  sure  if  it’s  from  wounds  or  dizziness,  but  he  has  a  stomach  intact  enough  to  turn,  so  it  must  be  progress.  ❝  but  later  . . .  ❞  he  mutters,  at  it  can’t  be  helped  if  his  grip  tightens  just  a  bit  on  his  support.  ❝   later,  i  am  going  to  sleep.  for  a  very,  very  long  time.  ❞

[everlost]

⚜․ˑ‧  RANDOM  STARTER  for  @miseretenue​ .

there  is  a  tension  in  the  group  that  could  be  cut  with  with  a  dull  knife.  quynh  is  free,  and  booker  is  back,  and  from  the  air  around  them  it  seems  no  one  is  quite  certain  how  to  feel  about  his  premature  return.  even  in  the  way  bodies  are  dispersed  through  the  safe  house.  everything  feels  the  same  as  it  used  to,  except  for  that  booker  is  in  the  corner  farthest  away  from  everyone  else.  like  even  though  he’s  under  the  same  roof,  he  is  still  IN  EXILE.

and  maybe  he  ought  to  be.  isn’t  he  the  one  who  betrayed  them  ?  isn’t  he  the  one  that  nearly  got  andy  killed  ?  he  is  that,  and  more.  for  better  or  worse,  he  is  the  reason  lucas’  memories  have  returned,  jumbled  and  fragmented  as  they  are.  and,  in  that,  lucas  does  feel  some  conflict.  these  memories  hurt.  the  loss  hurts.  and  as  easy  as  it  would  be  to  blame  booker  for  inflicting  these  wounds  on  him,  he  understands  booker’s  reasoning  now  better  than  ever.  but  more  than  any  of  that,  more  than  the  pain  and  the  loss  and  the  mess  of  a  brain  that  makes  less  sense  now  than  it  used  to,  lucas  just  misses  his  friend.

so  he  crosses  the  invisible  line  between  booker  and  everyone  else,  blanket  and  bedroll  tucked  under  an  arm.  he  says  nothing  at  first,  just  settles  his  bedding  onto  the  empty  space  beside  booker.  between  him  and  the  rest  of  the  world  that,  for  the  time  being,  seems  to  hold  more  fear  for  the  frenchman  than  it  used  to.  not  touching,  but  close  enough  that  the  blanket  he’s  brought  can  be  shared  between  the  two  men.  for  a  few  moments,  that’s  all  it  is.  just  being  there,  because  he  knows  all  too  well  how  it  feels  to  be  alone.  but  then,  in  a  voice  barely  above  a  whisper,  lucas  speaks  at  last.  ❝  tu  m'as  manqué,  mon  ami.  ❞

[myunknowncherryblossom]

[everlost]

𝙴𝚅𝙴𝚁𝙺𝙽𝙸𝙶𝙷𝚃 .

           at first, all nicky can do is part his lips but when no sound comes out they close again.  he’d never had children so he could never truly understand the pain booker was going through or that arthur went through when emotions were triggered.  growing up there’d been horses to tend to but that was hardly the same thing.  “ you’re relearning them, “ the knight smiles softly.  before saying anything else he pushes forward a bottle of water he’d brought with him, offering it to the other.

          “ the important part is that you’re reacquainting yourself. “  lucas’s family wasn’t forgotten because he’d wanted to forget.  that would be a different conversation entirely.  science took away those memories a very long time ago if he understood everything right.  time would bring them back.  waiting would be hard, he imagined.  but that was all they could realistically do.   hating himself wouldn’t bring any of it back faster.  “ day by day they’ll come back to you a little more.  what was her name? “

one  of  the  GREAT  MYSTERIES  OF  THE  WORLD,  this  knack  nicky  seems  to  have  for  finding  the  right  words  when  they’re  desperately  needed.  those  words  cannot  wash  away  all  the  guilt  weighing  heavy  on  lucas’  shoulders,  but  they  lighten  the  burden.  make  it  bearable,  make  it  so  he  can  breathe  again.  reacquainting  himself.  it  almost  doesn’t  sound  so  terrible  when  he  says  it  like  that.  it  feels  . . .  warm.  very  different  from  the  almost  clinical  tone  of  these  notes  that  have  served  as  his  only  company  for  hours  past.  to  see  his  life  and  the  lives  of  his  loved  ones  broken  out  in  dates  and  rough  scrawls  . . .  he’d  felt  almost  like  he  was  back  on  those  tables.  a  SPECIMEN  OF  HISTORY.

now,  he  can  almost  smile.  ❝  marie, ❞  he  says,  and  just  the  saying  of  her  name  fills  his  chest  with  a  warmth  that’s  utterly  foreign,  but  not  altogether  unwelcome.  gratefully,  lucas  takes  the  offered  water  and  twists  open  the  cap.  he  hadn’t  realized,  so  enraptured  in  his  reading,  how  long  it’d  been  since  he’s  bothered  to  drink  anything.  ❝  her  name  was  marie.  i  think  . . .  i  think  i  can  remember  my  hands  trembling  the  first  time  i  held  her.  can  you  believe  that  ?  i’d  held  swords  heavier  than  her,  but  my  hands  just  wouldn’t  stop  shaking.  ❞