like citrine in the sunlight

The far-shining ambrosial face of horse-driving hemera Stuttering, cold and damp Steal the warm wind tired friend Times are gone for honest men And sometimes far too long for snakes In my shoes, a walking sleep And my youth I pray to keep Heaven sent hell away No one sings like you anymore

[lucent-boy-blog]

eve of slaughter { hemera & hestia }

[eviebrxnnan-deactivated20160723]

Hestia kept away from battlefields, leavings the trials and troubles of war to the likes of Athena and Ares.

But even as far removed as the goddess was from these matters when a war erupted partially caused by her own sister curiosity was bound to take her. She had heard the tale of the golden apples and the conflict that followed but she had not seen the damage done until now. Bodies littering the ground below her feet, the once golden wheat tainted crimson by the blood of the fallen. Yes, the mortals had made quite a mess of the Earth.

They were as fickle as the Olympians, as reckless too, but she knew at the height of their misery they would turn an angry eye to the sky and curse them out all the same. Offerings had multiplied for the god of war and mothers cried for mercy, turning to her or to Hera. In the end, the mortals always expected their troubles to be solved by an outside power. But where was the lesson in that?

She was of a mind to let them untangle themselves, feeling only a sliver of empathy for those that had brought this suffering upon their own kind. Once she noticed she was not alone in the fields, she walked up to the smaller figure, not a mortal for sure but not a face she instantly recognized. “Now that the fields they once watered are painted with blood, how long do you think it will take them to beg for our merciful intervention?”

[lucent-boy-blog]

Hemera gazed blankly at the figure that sauntered to them. Squinting, their expression turned to contemplation as they discerned what deity had approached them. Ah yes, one of the Olympians, a daughter of Rhea and Cronus—Hemera’s thoughts drifted back to the War of the Titans and the bloody conflict that lead to the current state of affairs: three brothers overthrowing their father and carving out the world for their own rule. Untouchable as they flew over the sky every day, Hemera sat by as they watched Uranus fall to Cronus, and then Cronus to Zeus. Perhaps out of this conflict one of Zeus’ sons would overthrow his father to fulfil some violent prophecy.

Bringing their attention back to the figure, they were able to discern the divinity to be Hestia, something of a granddaughter or a grandniece if they were inclined to define familial relations. Pressing their lips together, Hemera sighed.

“We have already intervened, have we not? This war is of the Olympian’s doing—I’m sure some mortals would rather the divine refrained from meddling in their affairs unless they are blessed with a favorable trait,” Hemera lifted their dress and stepped over the body of a mangled corpse. Inspecting the armor and weapons that was strewn about the bodies, Hemera found themselves rather impressed by the craftsmanship.

“Don’t you think it’s such a waste?” they said, lifting up a glistening helmet with a bronze luster “They make such fine things in the name of war—and they all go to waste.”

[lucent-boy-blog]

eve of slaughter { hemera & open }

This was not the first time Hemera had seen the slaughter of men upon the fields of the Earth.

Hermera could not recall the first instance they were witness to the brutality of humans, but certainly by this point, they had become unfazed by their massacres. What strange creatures they were—relying on Hemera’s golden chariot and warmth to thrive but waiting until the luminance of day to murder one another in cold blood. Hemera took the gesture as a sign of humans wishing to showcase their carnage to the primordial deity themselves, but they since came to reason that they were ignorant to their audience in the sky.

Despite not feeling an ounce of emotion when they watched fields turn red, the individuals who befell terrible fates always had Hemera’s empathy. Descending down to the Earth as the sky turned pink and their sister encompassed the sky, Hemera placed their chariot beside a babbling brook as golden horses drank from the abundance of water.

Fretful, Hemera inspected the bodies of soldiers that were strewn in the field adjacent to the stream. The emptiness in their eyes always frightened Hemera, who chose to look away as they continued to navigate through the corpses. They had not seen what had happened here in particular—had the fight just recently took place?

[lucent-boy-blog]

right direction { lorena & elijah }

[lorenanataliarivera-blog]

The town of Savannah was completely different than Lorena had expected. She had only ever been to the city once, and she barely counted the one hour trip to the southern town because it was not even a day trip. All of this was new to her. She liked the town more than she had liked anyone other than Tennessee. It had been a long time since a place had felt like home. True she had only resided in the city for a few months, but there was something about Savannah that she truly felt connected to the place. But she didn’t know how long that feeling would be.

  The one thing about being in a new place that angered Lorena. Getting places. Lorena had a 3.9 GPA in high school– before she quit anyway– but math, science, history, and Englsih were nothing in comparison to directions. For probably the millionth time since arriving in Savannah, Lorena was lost. The map in her hands was either pointed the wrong direction, or she was just daft because the map wasn’t making any sense. Lorena let out a heavy sigh, attempting to navigate the place.

  It wasn’t the hottest place in the world, but it was certainly hotter than the last place she had lived in. At least there was a breeze. Looking to the left, she studied the street sign and then her map, attempting to figure out where she was, but a gust of wind ripped the map from her hands. Lorena chased after it, feeling like a fool. She didn’t want to sprint after the piece of paper anymore, even though she could have kept going– and probably caught it. Looking around, she tried to find someone that looked like they knew where they were heading. She spotted someone walking with some groceries. Lorena figured they probably lived close to the area.

  “Excuse me,” she said, approaching the person, “I’m still new to the area and I seem to have gotten lost… and lost my map.”

[lucent-boy-blog]

  With all of his hopefulness that he wouldn’t be approached, he tried to convince himself that the woman advancing towards him wasn’t trying to get his attention. Eyes forward and face blank as she took the last few steps that crossed the threshold into Elijah’s personal space, he only looked at her once she spoke to him. Coming to a stop, he alternated the bags in his hands so they all were all held by one arm—uncomfortable and obviously heavy, Elijah wanted a free hand just in case the woman was trying anything. Which, he really suspected, finding it hard to believe that someone in this day and age would actually use a physical map—what kind of excuse was that, anyway? Elijah was unimpressed.

  “Uh,” Elijah nudged up his glasses, sizing up the woman from head to toe. “You’re lost? I mean… where are you trying to go?”

  His head tilted downward, and he squinted his eyes above his glasses, like he was in pain. It was midday, and theoretically he was at his most powerful. A divinity of the sun and light—yet he felt drained, weak, even. It didn’t feel hot, so why did he feel so winded? His blood-pressure felt as if it were steadily declining, and the grip he had on his body began to fade into a haze with black spots appearing at the edge of his vision.

  Taking off his glasses with his one hand, he pressed his knuckle into the bridge of his nose to relieve his headache. It was apparent he wasn’t doing so well, much to his dismay.

  “Sorry—do you need directions to the bus stop?” he tried to talk the conversation away. “There’s a bus stop right up the street that can take you to the station in town and you can get to wherever in the city from there. Unless you’re looking for an address? Which—if you tell me the street I can point you in the right direction.”

[lucent-boy-blog]

right direction { lorena & elijah }

  Elijah’s eyes passed over the boxes of cereal without emotion or reaction. Shopping, as much of a necessity it was, was perhaps the worst chore conceived for the modern world. Washing clothes was bearable, as was cleaning, but the process of going out every other week or so and buying food that was vital to live and exist always depressed Elijah. In his mind, people should live in some utopia that doesn’t require them to buy the things they absolutely need to survive, and while he made more than enough to get by, it never sat well with Elijah to buy food. Perhaps a quirk from early childhood where food was scarce from neglect, seeing the rows of food and sustenance laid out for consumers to buy made him sick to his stomach. Food was always unappetizing when he went to the store, causing him to buy less than he really needed.

  The heat was tolerable that day at least, and the twenty minute walk from the local grocery store and Elijah’s house was enjoyable for a late spring afternoon. Peak hours of heat had begun, but a cool breeze negated the accumulating warmth that pooled up in the concrete and the buildings. Elijah always flip-flopped back and forth between the merits of walking and driving his car, as he hated driving for the sole reason of a terrible accident, but there was the lingering thought that he might also be mugged if he walked home alone with groceries. He knew it wasn’t good to keep his head down, as it made him come off as submissive to anyone who had intentions to harm him. So, taking a deep breath, he looked up and out at the sidewalk passing underneath him. The scenery of an afternoon in a sprawl of businesses and houses on a somewhat busy street was idyllic—calm and normal—just like Elijah liked it. He just hoped that no one would approach him for any reason, as a quiet walk home was all he wanted after shopping for groceries.

[ransomltd]

Another of Chaz Bundick, Toro y Moi. For HUGE Magazine No. 103 (Japan).

[kylemesser]

Memorial this, memorial that. That’s all Kyle heard his employees talking; some times, the conversations would cease to exist if he walked in the room – this time, however, it was like his employees went out of their way to make sure that Kyle heard them talk about the memorial his father was making him help him with. It was torture, to do something both of his souls didn’t want anything to do with. Neither Zeus or Kyle thought any of the dead humans deserved to be remembered; they attacked people who deserved no violence towards them, people that stood above them in every sense. They had been animals, thirsty for blood just because they feared the incarnates. They should be feared but only when angered; and they weren’t angered before every person in town decided to persecute them with stupid pitchforks and childlike threats. It was almost as pathetic as it was an inconvenience. 

Memorial, memorial, memorial.

Are you attending? 

I’m so glad the Mayor took the initiative. Yada, yada yada. 

That’s all he heard as he walked through the hall and by his employees; some nodded at him, others checked them out and others would just keep talking like their employer wasn’t just passing by; annoyed on the inside but on the outside, he held the same politician smile his father had on his lips every time he had a speech in front of people Kyle was sure he didn’t give a damn about. 

Walking to the parking lot, he half-expected Zeus to make an appearance. He had been far too quiet the past couple of days and while Kyle would once have enjoyed the silence, it was if half of himself had decided not to show up. As he reached his car, he stopped next to the driver’s door with keys in hand and just waited. And waited, and waited, and waited. Nothing. Kyle wanted to worry, but if he worried, then things were bound to get worse. Moments passed and his body almost didn’t move; it was if it didn’t want to until his mind heard the god.

[lucent-boy-blog]

  Such misfortune and misery—Elijah had gotten himself locked out of his car and his phone was dead.

  Fleeting scenes played out like a movie in his head. Maybe this was the moment he gave up everything to go live out in the swampland, free from the burden of modern civilization and its troubles with petty rules and obligations. The need to keep track of every little thing that had no bearing on anything beyond his livelihood. If the apocalypse were to happen right that moment, Elijah’s phone and car would be utterly useless, yet within the working structure of society the weight and meaning of his belongings increased to a point of absurdity. It would be hard to survive in such a world if one did not have means for communication or transportation, and certainly, Elijah wouldn’t be able to perform his simplistic job as an educator unless he had these things.

  Yet here he was. The heat in the air had become normal as the days leading to summer grew less and less. Today was the spike in the weather forecast—the day where the chatter of casual passing would be a unanimous sure is hot out today. Elijah felt the brunt of it. Locked out of his car, he’d already taken off his jacket, and while the thin white t-shirt he wore underneath dispelled heat, his jeans still clung to the warmth that bubbled up from the parking lot. Visibly distressed, he’d resigned himself to sit in the little bit of shade from a tree that extended to a section of the sidewalk—Elijah was notorious for circling a parking lot to find the shelter of shade if he could. Collecting himself before approaching someone to help him, Elijah stared into the rows of cars, their license plate numbers being read over and over in his mind.

  A man had gone to his car—a figure Elijah would have ignored if he hadn’t just suddenly stopped and became immobile after getting to the door. At first glance Elijah thought he was on his phone, but upon closer inspection he saw he was doing nothing. Nothing at all.

  Pulling himself up, Elijah approached the man. If he needed to borrow a cellphone now was as good of a time to ask if the man was just standing there doing nothing. “Hello—I’m, uh, sorry to ask but I’m in a bit of a bind and I was wondering if I could borrow your cellphone, maybe? Just for a quick call—I lost mine.”

[lucent-boy-blog]

light of my life { elijah & lily }

[nychtaleirion]

She looked up at him, surprised at the change in his tone. It felt like she was being chastised; this was not the first time it had happened, but a strange feeling of shame came upon her. Lily Dubois hadn’t felt shame since Ruth Caine had been dragged out of her original hovel of a home all those years ago, when the social worker’s eyes seemed to accuse her of being an accomplice in her parents’ neglect. Lily caught Molly’s eye, and the two shared a look. Lily bit her tongue and kept from saying that Molly seemed fine with it. That would probably incense this man further.

Watching him widen the space he was taking up, Lily relented. It was a day of firsts, or firsts in far too long, and she felt bad for making this stranger uncomfortable. It was odd because something about him unsettled her, like she was standing uncomfortably close to an oven. “Come on, scoot on over,” she said, moving to give him more space on the bench.

“What are you doin’ here, then? Meant to tell you that this was my favourite spot, but was distracted by the kid. She seems like a darlin’,” Lily said. It was clear he loved the child, which was nice to see. She couldn’t shake the feeling Nyx knew him, and seeing him interact with the little girl made her remember something. Her thoughts and Nyx’s had been one for so long that she could no longer tell whether it was from this human past or from divine memory.

“Sister, hmm. Large age difference, isn’t it?” Lily paused before adding, “Not that you have to explain yourself. Didn’t mean to pry.” Her words were very clumsy today, and Lily listened in silent horror to the things flowing out of her own mouth. She was off her game today; what normally was her strongest suit had become her weakness. Part of her wanted to escape, to walk away and never talk to this man and his little sister ever again. But Lily Dubois, give up? Killing was too easy for her, but not a simple conversation? She would not be defeated.

Lily took a deep breath. “I don’t know why, but I feel like we got off on the wrong foot.” She stretched her hand out. “Lily Dubois,” she said. “S'nice to meet you.” She looked at him expectantly, hoping he’d take her hand.

[lucent-boy-blog]

  “I’m not--,”

  Elijah wanted to protest, simply because he was already put off by the woman, but why would he protest an amicable display? She gave him her space back, obviously trying to repair the first impression that had gone so sourly between them. Elijah had mixed feelings when it came to second chances, but sometimes he got so passive working against those who stepped over him—there was a time and a place to fight but Elijah was not a fighter.

  He took a few beats to answer the woman, still wary. “Just, seeing the flowers,” he began. “Spending some time outside.” Elijah didn’t want to talk about Molly with the woman, as the petting from earlier had put him on edge. He agreed, though, and with a quick glance over to Molly to reaffirm that, yes, she was a darling, Elijah only nodded in response to the woman’s comment.

  “I’m adopted,” Elijah retorted, with a small snort. Of the few matters Elijah was open about, being adopted was one that he even took some semblance of pride in. Ms. Holt had been a wonderful mother, and of course people had commented before on the twenty-something year age difference between him and Molly—why let people’s minds wander when Elijah could just dispel their notions of his family right then and there?

  No kidding Elijah thought, with a hint of animosity. His demeanor was still guarded, his eyes still distrusting, but growing up in the South meant that Elijah had a firm sense of cordiality. Taking the hand for a brief shake, Elijah cleared his throat and nudged up his glasses. “My name is Elijah,” he said, matter-of-factly. “Nice to meet you too.”

[lucent-boy-blog]

act of god { elijah & gina }

[addyxum-deactivated20160222]

She nodded in response to his question, unsure whether or not he was asking due to concern of her perhaps needing to go upstairs, and into the middle of the tempest that might be filing its way through her house like an unwanted army of men, or if he just wanted to fill the space. It did not matter which reason it was; she kept folded clothes down here, recently finished laundry as she sometimes used the very small shower to keep the pipes going. The same shower that didn’t look like one, that had no curtain rod nor privacy ( not that she needed once whilst living alone ) and one that had a cold concrete floor with a hard metal drain - and the shower head. It was juvenile, almost medieval. Clara had expressed a snort upon seeing it. But it was functioning and that’s all that mattered to Gina: whether or not things worked by themselves.

Going into one of the corners not accosted by light, she narrowed her gaze to see into the lithe shadows spilling in. Up above, and against the closed cellar double doors, a barrage of hail was heard battering against the wood. When the thunder rolled, it seemed to shake the very beams and foundation of the house - all the way down into the earth itself. Someone, something, was irritated about something, and it wasn’t her. Zeus, perhaps. But Zeus, although careless, he would not dare to be this careless. At least Demeter, and Gina as well, hoped not. The last thing the two of them wanted was to cause problems ( although Demeter was a little darker in nature, that didn’t mean she wanted to go around drowning people. Unless it was Poseidon or Hades. )

She fished out a graphic tee that she once stole from a band’s merchandise table ( indeed, Gina Huang committed a crime in her youth! ) and some of her father’s older work jeans. “I hope these are sufficient. And I hope you don’t mind Avenged Sevenfold. They’re both darker colour so if there’s bloodstains, it won’t show up - but don’t worry about it.” Comfort was first. As he finished wrapping up some of the last wounds with the bandages, she made a mental note to restock on medical supplies the next time she headed into town - if the town was still there after this freak storm. 

She draped the clothes across the back of the chair. “Tornadoes in Florida? Shit.” She could’ve sworn those were hurricanes, but she wasn’t much on keeping up with the weather in other states. It was bad enough dealing with the sweltering changes of Georgia. “I just hope this isn’t one that lasts for a couple of days. Maybe it’ll blow over with a lot of hooray and disappear.”

Smiling, she did like to talk about her work; it was better than talking about herself. “Yeah, I have cattle and other livestock, all shut up in the barn fortunately. I do some crops, have a line of peach trees out back. Really hope this doesn’t blow them over.” Her explanation was punctuated with worried statements such as these muttered under her breath. “I also seed and grow flowers for the shoppe in the middle of town that I own with my sister Clara. Just a lot of nature based things, y’know? Might have a mind for chemicals, but I have a hand for the earth. What about yourself? What do you do - when you’re not falling in the middle of the woods?”

[lucent-boy-blog]

  As much as he wanted to dispel his unease, the details of the scenario that he kept on mulling over in his mind perturbed him. The storm that confined them to the cellar was wreaking havoc in the land above, with a constant hum of piercing gusts and a deluge of water that would keep Elijah on edge for most of the night. Claustrophobia wasn’t a quirk to Elijah’s neurosis, but that didn’t mean it couldn’t become one if they got stuck down here for whatever reason. Again, Elijah tried to convince himself that if he had to be anywhere, a cellar out in the middle of nowhere was better than the cemented tub that was well away from any windows. But then again, how long would it take someone to find their bodies out here if something were to go wrong? At least in the city, Elijah knew his corpse would be accounted for in the days of cleaning and searching once the storm had passed.

  The fact that he was stuck down here with a stranger didn’t sit well with him either, but in flip-flopping back and forth over the merits of how trustworthy he surmised Gina to be, he’d started to become exhausted with his distrust. A side-effect of any new encounter, really, but in his reservation he usually had the option to abstain from social interaction all together if he wasn’t in the right frame of mind. An introvert at heart, energy came to him when he was alone. For such a draining experience like falling off his bike and getting caught in the storm of the century, it didn’t appear that he’d get much alone time in the cellar.

  Though, Gina was nice. There hadn’t been anything to make Elijah be wary of her other than his own discomfort with any level of intimacy with strangers. Watching her pick out the clothes in a blank stare, Elijah nudged up his glasses and nodded in appreciation. “Yeah, thanks—I’ve, uh, never heard of that before. Is—are they, a band?” he asked, picking up the t-shirt to confirm his suspicions that the logo was definitely that of a musician group of the heavy metal persuasion. “Oh, I see.”

  He was about to take off his shirt, but there came a pause as he glanced back up at Gina. “You wouldn’t have a towel, would you?” He hadn’t even thought about it—why put on a new pair of clothes if he was just going to get them all wet and damp with the thin layer of water residue that was sure to stick to his skin once he took his shirt off.

  “Yeah, you can only hope, really,” he shrugged, with a sigh that almost made his remark sound disheartened.

  Nodding, Elijah was fixated on Gina and the conversation. Yet, it was like a pin had dropped when Gina mentioned Clara—a Clara who had some business with a flower or a nature shop. Distinct in Elijah’s mind, Haven knew a Clara who owned a flower shop and was, as far as Elijah knew, just like him. “Uh--,” the mention of Gina’s sister had caught Elijah off guard, who answered her question in a rushed, but polite manner before he got back on the subject of Clara. “That’s interesting—I’m actually a teacher. I teach elementary school—second graders. Over in town.”

  “What’s you and your sister’s shop called?” he asked. “Like, what part of town is it in?”

[aresincarnated]

terrible things; oliver & elijah

[aresincarnated]

Oliver shrugged, glancing from the ground to the obviously spooked man (his eyes, wider than a deer’s, even without the headlight, his tone rigid with an apparent…nervousness - it was throwing even Oli out of whack). “Oh, I could be. No one ever suspects you if you come right out and say it, right?” He shot him a wink for good measure.

“Well, you’re not very observant, are you?” He smirked. Maybe this guy wasn’t a freak, after all.

The crowd of crazies never bothered Oliver. They were no threat to him, no threat to what he stood for or believed in. Of course, if he was asked, he would say with condolence that it truly ‘fuckin’ sucked’ that people died for what he was - but no one was asking, so he wouldn’t pull such an unbelievable truth. As the war god, he had the ability to keep everything, especially the rioters, under some form of control, so their malevolence was comparable to only a child’s temper tantrum in his eyes.

But a roar, a barbaric screech that tore through the air, broke out.

The crowd held a man back, grabbing at him from shirt and pants and hair and neck - fingers around throats and crumpling their fellow terrorizers to get closer to him, closer to the F R E A K . It was morbid, how truly savage they were as they crooned, scratching at him, blood lust lingering in the air.

Seeing Mister Shaky Knees put a phone to his ear prompter Oliver to turn around, whipping his head to face him with a face of…panic? Yes, panic - the police wouldn’t help this. It would only fuel the fire, cops beating citizens and the Crazies attempting a lynching all in one corner of the street was a small hell. It would absolutely tear Ares out of him; the war god was already antsy for a blood spill.

“No - stop. The cops…” He paused, searching for a non-revealing excuse. “They’ll just freak everyone out.” Oliver ran a hand through messy hair, returning the stranger’s look. “We - we can fix this. I think.”

[lucent-boy-blog]

  He had anticipated apathy, dissuasion too. It was oddly pleasing to see the young man’s demeanor change in front of him. From some detachment and indifference to implying the two of them were going to do something about this mess—perhaps the distraught protests of the victim they were ready to kill evoked sympathy in the young man.

  “Freak everyone out? They couldn’t just kidnap him if the cops showed up,” Elijah reasoned, but with little conviction. It made sense why calling the cops wouldn’t be such a good idea knowing that he was a reincarnated god—should he have been some innocent bystander without a drop of divine blood he would have been on the phone with 9 -1-1 already. It was high noon—sun at its peak. If Elijah were to do something, now was his opportunity.

  “We can fix this?” he repeated back. “What are we going to do?”

  Two men together probably couldn’t pull the victim out without being roughed up themselves, or worse, thrown into the fray. Elijah began to formulate some distraction, but anything too outlandish or destructive might cause the mob to convict the man of the damage. Or perhaps the man would be taken away with the group fleeing from any disaster, or maybe any distraction Elijah could muster wouldn’t be enough to draw away attention from the man.

  He had to get the man out of there—somehow.

  Taking a few steps so he was out of the shade, he turned halfway back towards the young man. “Well?” he asked again with urgency, but his powers began to saturate his bones. It wouldn’t be that far of a stretch that someone could get lost in the crowd, as it was anarchic—rowdy and wild. The target of anger would all but disappear from the cluster’s eyes, but he was still in harm’s way.

  Mustering a distraction seemed like the next task for Elijah to save the man.

[lucent-boy-blog]

act of god { elijah & gina }

[addyxum-deactivated20160222]

To think that she had once resided in an apartment in the dead middle of a college town. It was larger than most of those she knew to reside around the United States, considering it was in the centre of Athens, but at least it was better than attending an inner downtown college, such as the one at Atlanta. It could have been a worser decision on her part, but she also could have chosen someplace better. And she wondered what might have occurred in her life if she had gone elsewhere, perhaps to a midwestern school such as something in the outskirts of Chicago, or someplace in Iowa. Were there even universities in Iowa? Goes to demonstrate how much she understood about this new Earth. ( though A t h e n s made her think of the place in Greece, and that was a calling towards home as well )

Not that she had many people over at her apartment either. But it was less likely for her to gain companionship in the countryside, and she knew that. But she preferred this life to the alternate in the city life. She wouldn’t surrender it for the world. And anyone who dared to attempt to take it away from her, she would fight against them. And so would Demeter. ( Demeter wasn’t too keen on spending time out there with others, either. Most were highly disagreeable to her. )

There were a dozen and one cuts on his calfs that made her wince a little bit. She could imagine how much the smell of the disinfectant alone was discomforting; adding in the unpleasantness of the sting just made it all together something one wishes to avoid completely. With one row of shelves having been completed in inventory, she went around to the other side, and some of the shelves were on the barer side, enabling her to peer past the contents to observe him.

“Let me know if you want something different to wear,” she offered, Southern hospitality making a grand reappearance. Plus Demeter wasn’t protesting, so that must’ve meant something positive in relation to Elijah. “Can’t be comfortable sitting in wet dirty clothes. And I’m sure by the time I washed them, the storm would be long done.” 

At least, that’s what she was hoping.

“There’s no word of a tornado, though who knows. The weathermen are in a position to lie and never get fucking fired. I think it’s just supposed to swell up and make everything super uncomfortable. High winds, hail, lightning strikes. Enough to do a lot of damage, though. If that wasn’t made obvious. Regardless, this cellar’s survived plenty. It’ll survive a tornado.” 

She offered a hoarse chuckle in place of something further to say. Gina might have been a teacher, but she wasn’t much in the way of interaction. She had left those days behind her when she had graduated from college and moved back to focus on her family. Though Demeter did help her be a little more attuned to the emotions of others. Considering the goddess was a rather emotional bundle of nerves herself.

[lucent-boy-blog]

  The smell was reminiscent of an afternoon back at the school—the blacktop radiating enough heat to bend far-off light with small, pulsating waves. The commotion of playing and excitement filled the air, but in the shade of the building, the hum of muffled sobs could be heard over the distant, disembodied shrieks of laughter. Scabbed and bleeding from a bad fall, Elijah wiped away ingrained dirt and bits of rocks from the wound, much to the child’s distress. It was probably the last week he’d volunteered for yard duty, seeing as how again and again he’d work himself up thinking of all the horrible injuries the kids could inflict upon themselves. Several badly scrapped knees, bloodied noses, and even a broken arm had prompted the school to introduce stricter safety measures, but there was nothing stopping the fates working the universe to cause all those things to happen when Elijah was on duty.

  A grunt of exasperation left him. The image of school faded into a gradient of his student’s faces, and a profound concern had welled up inside of him. Sure, he’d maybe thought about them in passing earlier in the day, but compounded with the fretting of tornadoes and imminent death, it was just another intrusive thought that paralyzed him.

  Swallowing, he nudged up his glasses. “Do you have clean clothes down here?” he asked, though, why would she offer if she didn’t? “I think… I think that I should probably change once I get cleaned up. I, uh, might get some blood on the clothes—just so you know.”

  Working slowly he’d still managed to wrap up most of his injuries in firm bandaging. Faded patches of red peeked through the eggshell fabric, but at this point the bleeding had all but stopped because of scabbing. Bundling up the last gash on his arm, there was a moment of pause as he smoothed out the adhesive and lifted his hands up, as if it would all unravel and fall apart now that his undertaking was complete.

  Glancing back at Gina, he cleared his throat. “That’s good. I know we don’t get a lot of tornadoes compared to Florida or anything out in the Midwest but—it’s still a possibility.” The cellar was safer than his bathtub, to be sure, but there wasn’t ever a certainty that cellars could withstand a tornado passing overhead (a one-in-one thousand chance, but enough for Elijah to be distrusting).

  “So uh, what do you do out here?” he asked, taking off his glasses and setting them aside. Squinting at her through the crowded shelves, he pressed his lips together. “Like, you don’t grow stuff out here, do you? Or do you take care of cattle or something?”

[hadesrexinferni]

darkness shall swallow the light || aidan & elijah

[hadesrexinferni]

With mind clouded, Aidan was unaware of those around him. His head pounded, eyes glossy and mouth parted as he breathed in the thick, humid air, hands taut and tense, though in contrast his shoulders slumped forward. The darkness started to wane, fading around him like the sand of an upturned hourglass as it slid back and formed his shadow once more.

His head started to calm as the heavy presence of darkness dissipated, falling, causing his body to grow lighter before dropping him to the heavy reality of Savannah, Georgia. The southern town returned to him and he could breathe steadily again.

His eyes grew accustomed to the dark weighing itself on the town and his body eased. Though now, he was terribly aware of the small group of passerby with their eyes on him. Aidan looked at each one in turn, as if he could see their very insides, see the inner workings of their mind as he turned his gaze over and over.

However, he came to look at a younger man, one with quite the disturbed expression on his face and lifted a brow. He wasn’t new to blank stares and hushed tones, but the way the boy looked at him, it was almost as if he knew.

As if he knew.

Aidan allowed the darkness to pass as he stood, back straightening and head lifted, jaw slightly cocked with mouth open as he took in the other’s appearance. There was something familiar– “Can I help you?” He asked, voice low, tone thick and forming from his chest. His fingers twitched eagerly at his sides, as if he was itching for the other to do something, anything, to give him a reason to send him into eternal darkness.

He had the itch and he was sure it wouldn’t go away any time soon.

[lucent-boy-blog]

  Who was this?

  That’s all Elijah wanted to know taking in the festering darkness that clouded the figure before him. His knowledge of the pantheon was minimal, as Haven was the only other god he’d ever even talked to and even then their combined knowledge didn’t extend to reach the other members. A person named Clara, the notorious Inigo Armistead and a young man named Oliver—those were all of the names Elijah could muster, and he couldn’t even put faces to any of them.

  The ebbing void at the figure’s feet was warped—twisting and contorting the light that reflected off of onyx arms that seemingly grew to envelop Elijah. The owner of the nefarious power went nameless, as Elijah couldn’t think of any god who’d harbor something so polar to Hemera herself—though the thought of Nyx crossed his mind. But this darkness was more than just the absence of light. There was a stink of death attached to it, one that floated to Elijah’s nostrils and made him grimace in the fumes.

  Death and decay were distinct aromas that elicited the sensation of icy fear to drip down over Elijah’s bare skin.

  Did this man have intentions to kill him?

  “Yeah… well—I mean… I mean you’re just--,” Elijah hated stating the obvious. Taking a breath to recompose himself, a hand reached up to rub the back of his neck, and he could feel how hot and slimy his hands had already gotten against the warm metal keys in his hand.

  “You’re a—a god,” he stammered, unable to reign in the obvious hint of fear in his voice “and I know that because, for starters, people don’t usually just hang around in clouds of… whatever that dark stuff is.”

  A nervous, quick chuckle escaped him, but the severity returned to his face with the next beat. “And… I know you’re a god because—I’m a god too.”

  There was no proof for such a claim, but some semblance of courage had returned to Elijah. There wasn’t any way that he’d actually be harmed by this man because Hemera would step in and do something. Though, to convince the other divinity before him would take some expenditure of power or strength, which he was capable of but would be rather lackluster in the twilight. Soft rays of light and warmth didn’t compare much to a man who was half-enveloped in a cloud of dark matter.

  “You know like… Hemera?” he always had qualms about uttering her name aloud, like her name should be followed with ubiquitous praise after every mention “They’re—she’s… here.”

[lucent-boy-blog]

A long time ago, my heart was in two It's written in black and w h i t e 

[lucent-boy-blog]

act of god { elijah & gina }

[addyxum-deactivated20160222]

Gina assumed that now was as good of a time as ever to go through all of the supplies in the cellar and see what needed to be replenished. It was one of the thousand of chores she had not accomplished, but knew it needed to be. Perhaps one of the downfalls of running a working ranch on the outskirts of town was the constant need for a to-do list; one where just when a couple of items were crossed off, she added ten more in their place. But for someone who was completely on her own doing it, save for when Clara visited ( and it was their attempts at bonding over something again ) - she commended herself, patted herself on the back.

“It’s no problem.” 

A cursory response. But it was natural for her to offer the help, even if there was a stranger-dom still established between the two of them. She couldn’t turn off the faucet of compassion, no matter what she was faced with. ( Little did she know that these sentiments would be tested, that she would be pitted against the oddness she had come to accept within herself. All because someone else had realised that they couldn’t be contained, and therefore didn’t contain themselves. ) 

She picked up the yellow pad of paper dangling from a nail in the nearest wooden wall and scooted the pen out from where it had been hooked on the top sheet. Starting at the nearest shelf, she started perusing through the canned goods, the fruits and the vegetables, the beans, the non-perishables. Checking the dates. Turning them a little to the right or the left, depending on if they were crooked or not. The wind continued howling outside, an untamed beast.

“Elijah. Nice to meet you, though I’d prefer it to not be underneath these circumstances.”

She provided a nonchalant shrug.

“What can I say? When faced with imminent death, all of a sudden I become a chatterbox and I forget the important stuff. I just hope some tornado doesn’t touch down and ruin everything even worse than it already has.”

[lucent-boy-blog]

  Having lived in the city or the suburbs all his life, farms and rural properties seemed unsolidified in their actual existence—like he’d seen pictures or videos, but the notion of if they actually looked the way they did translated in media was up for debate. Watching Gina begin the process of tallying off supplies gave Elijah a sense of how arduous managing an estate must be. Was there agriculture here? Maybe horticulture she (or someone else) attended to? Or was it just a slab of land slowly being reclaimed by the Earth thanks to people uninvolving themselves from laboring the ground?

  He was curious, at least, but glancing around the pantry provided little context for Elijah. Chemicals, equipment, and food, he could discern, but all put together it looked, well, ordinary.

  Unfolding bandages and pads saturated with disinfectant, the process of cleaning up dried, brownish blotches appeared to be doable on his own. Maybe it’d take a while, but he wasn’t all that qualified aside from the basic first aid training he participated in at the school. Pricks of discomfort congealed into sections of biting pain with every wipe from the disinfectant causing him to grimace in silence at the stings that peppered his skin. His legs were attended to first, with intention to work upwards after he cleaned up the major scabs on his calves.

  “Yeah, nice to meet you too,” he replied, hunched over so that his soggy clothes squeezed out rivulets of excess water. He chuckled “Well I don’t know, if we didn’t meet, I’d still be in that bathroom and who knows if I’d of survived the night.”

  Elijah knew he’d never suffer death in the daytime, but night seemed to be a whole other matter, as he was well aware of the risks involved outside of his comfort zone.

  “Was there word of a tornado?” he asked, head lifting up to make eye contact “I mean I heard hail, but I didn’t hear anything about a tornado or the possibility of one forming.” With a huff, he leaned back up and picked out some band-aids and bandages from the first aid kit before returning back to his leg. “This thing is tornado proof too, right?”

[lucent-boy-blog]

light of my life { elijah & lily }

[nychtaleirion]

Lily eyed the girl, watching her pulling petals off a flower. Typical of children to be destructive; they knew what humanity was meant for. She grinned, reaching out to pat the girl on the head, like a pet. Rarely did she come in contact with children, the rare instances too sad for her to be flippant. Today would be filled with many surprises, it seemed, and this child was the least of them.

She turned her attention to the man beside her. She sat beside him, a touch too close. Lily had always been aware of personal space, and invading it was a show of her power. Lily herself was comfortable at any distance: life was too short for her to feel strange about someone else’s skin touching her own. She had squeezed the air out of a man’s throat, bathed her fingers in his blood. It was nothing to her to have a hand graze a stranger’s shoulder. She sat, then, with her arm lightly touching his, as she looked him in the eye. a smirk poised at the corner of her lips. It would explain away the thorough survey of his features Lily was currently making.

He was not handsome, nor was there anything about his features that really stood out. Had she been anyone else, it was likely that she would have passed by him with nary a glance. But Lily had always paid attention to the details, and something about his face seemed familiar to her. An emotional connection, then, and one not just something in her brain. Now that they were touching, skin against skin, she felt the pull grow stronger, though it was still something she could not place. It felt as if Nyx were quiet, as if she could not bring herself to speak. How strange that was.

“I’ve never seen you before,” Lily said, simply. She felt the strange urge to smooth his hair back, as she’d done to someone before. Who was it? A lover? Lily couldn’t remember, and that frustrated her. She clasped her hands on her lap, keeping her from doing that to a stranger. What was wrong with her?

She turned her head to face the little girl again. This child was cared for, the love clear in the sheen of her hair and the ruddiness of her cheeks. Lily wondered what it would have been like to be taken care of as a child, back when she was still Ruth and her hands had not yet been soiled by murder and theft.

“Yours?” Her voice was soft so the child would not hear.

[lucent-boy-blog]

  Jaw clenching, smile disappearing—Elijah tensed up when he saw the woman’s hand reach out for Molly. How protective he was of her, and how easily he could be put on edge if any stranger were to interact with her. It was a fleeting gesture, but Elijah wasn’t prompt to dismiss it. Glancing at the woman, who sat uncomfortably close next to him—skin touching skin—his narrowed eyes and body language obviously hinted that her action wasn’t the right thing to do. Her smirk was met with a chilled gaze, and Elijah, while displeased and just beginning to bubble with anxiety, wasn’t the type just stay quiet if something truly bothered him.

  “Should probably ask to make sure it’s alright before touching a kid,” he remarked, crossing his arms over his chest. Molly understood what that meant, and gave the woman an exaggerated and apologetic look before hopping off to another patch of flowers.

  “Stay where I can see you!” he called out, to which, Molly replied with nonchalant affirmation, seeming to upset Elijah even more.

  The woman seemed sharp, like a knife. While he wanted to brush her off as some stranger, there was something underneath the surface that just needed to be felt. A weird, connection almost that Elijah couldn’t ignore even if he tried. The dubious sensations he tried to resist were that of Hemera’s, similar to the familiarity he felt whenever he was around Haven (yet Haven was the only other reincarnated God he truly knew, and he knew there were others). A sigh left his lips as he widened his legs just a few inches, reclaiming what little space he had on the bench with the woman sitting right up next to him.

  The question caught him off-guard, and led him to the inkling that whatever he was feeling, she was feeling too. “Not surprising,” he replied, rather coldly. He didn’t live around these parts, nor did he and Molly visit here too often.

  Yours?

  “Nope. She’s my sister,” he said in affirmation, indifferent to Molly hearing his reply.

[aresincarnated]

terrible things; oliver & elijah

[aresincarnated]

Oh, he was a reasonable one, wasn’t he? Oliver wasn’t quite sure if he liked him yet or not - but favor seemed to be on Brazen Boy’s side, seeing as he had yet to walk away or influence his mood. Or the mood of the rioters, for that matter.

A cheeky grin and a cloud of nicotine poured into the air, Oliver laughing with content. Yes, he definitely liked this guy. “You never know, I could be a spy. I could have a gun on me right now, loaded and everything.” He patted the breast pocket of his coat (totally empty, but dramatic effect was simply everything) menacingly. Oli’s grin twisted into one of malevolent meanings.

Of course, anyone could sense that Brazen had that aura of familiarity, like when you run into a primary school teacher or your next door neighbor from ten years ago - and you know them, you do, but their name is beyond you. On the tip of you tongue, just out of reach, so close and yet far. Far enough. 

Oliver narrowed his eyes at him, letting out a hmph.

And the eruption of the crowd tore him away from playing Name Game, once again focused on the primal, raw energy that festered within them. The building blocks of warfare, Oliver could recognize it anywhere these days. In the makeshift gallows, in the corrupted court house, walking down Main Street, hanging his head to avoid eye contact (but he wasn’t afraid - no. Not him), and his divnium inside him begged for more of that, more of the terror the real f r e a k s brought. Oli would never comply, despite his urge to heighten their anger.

He had dark images of the streets running crimson. But only for a moment.

“Oh, no. They won’t kill me. They don’t know who I am.”

[lucent-boy-blog]

  Again with the hypotheticals. Elijah’s head pivoted back to the young man with a furrowed brow. “A spy,” he repeated in mocking disbelief “Yeah—okay, sure.”

  The young man’s laugh indicated that he was joking, but Elijah didn’t find the humor fitting. Especially not in light of what was going on across the street.

  He was ready to say goodbye and leave it at that but something pulled him back. Magnetism was something he rarely experienced, as charms could certainly work on him, but inherently he was wary of people and what they could do to him. Bad feelings and weird vibes kept him from dawdling, but there was something he couldn’t quite put his finger on that made him want to stay—either to continue the conversation with the young man or to see what the hullabaloo was about.

  Elijah took the man’s comment with a mortal mind. “What? Like you’re the mayor’s son or something?” he asked, with an incredulous curl of his lips.

  The uproar interrupted Elijah’s thoughts again, but this time, it was obvious to see what they were so upset over: they had picked out someone who they were convinced wasn’t human, and they were eager to quench their reasonless thirst for blood.  

  It was reactionary that Elijah pulled out his phone, tempted to dial emergency services to quell the uprising, but with every passing moment things seemed to become direr, and the possibility of the person escaping the mob with their life grew slim.

  Glancing back at the young man, Elijah gave him a look that asked–are you going to do anything about this?

  Because if not, he was. 

[hadesrexinferni]

darkness shall swallow the light || aidan & elijah

  “I will bring you D O W N        I will bring confusion to your w o r t h,             I will bring you to your knees,               I will make you alone.                  The despair caused by no other then, I am YOU.”

People usually kept to themselves in the office. They didn’t usually bother Aidan, not really, not unless they truly needed something from him. And it was nice – he wasn’t bothered unnecessarily, and they didn’t have to step into his office, which they have claimed to be ‘creepy’ or ‘gothic’. It wasn’t new, not to him, but after everything that had been going on with the town fighting back, creating uproars and mobs, Aidan’s needed to tread lightly. He’s needed to find solace in the shadows more so than usual.

It wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, no, he rather enjoyed it in the shadows, but things were getting dangerous even to his standards. The words were growing worse, people were growing bolder, they even endangered Clara’s life, something he didn’t take lightly. No, he didn’t take lightly at all, and if it came down to it, which it has, he would go against himself and take the life of Clara’s attacker. He would without a second thought. And he has.

But now that the town has been rioting and the National Guard was called in, Aidan wasn’t sure how he was going to continue being Clara’s knight in shining armor. Not with everyone having their eyes wide open in the back of their head, ever watching, ever waiting to catch him off guard. They wanted him gone, dead. They wanted to rip him apart, to strangle him and erase his existence from the world all because they were afraid of someone, something, different.

And they were bold, bold enough to destroy his office.

They couldn’t destroy it completely, no, it was still part of the hospital, but most of the townsfolk were against the inhumans anyway, so they trashed it. Bodies were strewn everywhere, tables overturned and the equipment and tools littered the floor while graffiti covered the tiled walls.

He took everything in; calm was the first emotion, but once his door was opened and the unsuspecting intern stepped into the office, Aidan snapped his arm up, face turned towards the boy in question. Shadows slithered out from the cracks in the room and intertwined themselves around the intern’s legs, travelling up his body and constricting him tight until the life left his eyes.

Aidan let the body drop lifelessly, and he stood, silently, for a long moment as he took in the limp form of his previous intern. He said nothing. He did nothing. Not until his anger welled up inside of him, releasing a wave of darkness through the hospital – light bulbs erupted one by one as the light was diminished, destroyed by just the raise of a hand. He could hear the screams, the sudden sounds of surprise and fear.

And it made him smile.

However, the smile faltered just slightly as the anger waved, but he strode out of the building with his head high, shoulders tense and a darkness about him. Aidan stepped into the evening sun, grateful for the low light, and looked around. No doubt someone would have noticed the sudden power outage, but honestly, it was only a matter of time before someone found him out.

[lucent-boy-blog]

    The prospect of being found out had terrified Elijah to the point of agoraphobia. It had been a twist of fate that the epicenter of strife had been somewhat close to the school, leading to an indefinite shutdown that gave Elijah an excuse to stay home. It was relatively safe, as the price of living in a gated housing complex is worth it to provide someone with peace of mind, but the notion of people charging through the gates and dragging Elijah down the street was unshakeable. There had been hours spent sitting in the armchair, going over each and every disaster and scenario that might present itself to Elijah. He’d taken the bug-out kit from his closet and placed it on the floor of his living room, just in case things went from bad to worse.

  Yet, for everyone else, life seemed to move on as normal, and as much as Elijah wanted to stay cooped up away from the possibility of danger, he couldn’t ignore his thinning food supply, or his wounds.

  It had been weeks since he’d fallen off his bike, but there were certain splotches of skin that, instead of healing and fading back into his flesh, had become saturated in sickly hues of green and purple. He knew just by looking at his arm that something wasn’t right, and that it’d be within his best interest to contact a medical professional lest he lose his arm.

  He didn’t think he was going to have to go to the hospital, but upon making the appointment and walking into his regular clinic, he’d learned that the clinic had also temporarily shut down due to the riots and protests that were taking place nearby. The affiliated clinic connected to the hospital would take him, however, and he was in luck to be referred for an appointment later that day.

  The outing he thought would last no more than an hour turned into an afternoon ordeal, and the longer he stayed in the presence of others the more nervous he became. Like he was under their scrutiny every time their eyes passed over him—the detriment of being so scared had caused Elijah to start to act odd, but being in a hospital, it ultimately went unnoticed.

  It was an act of normalcy for Elijah while he talked to the doctor, and he was ultimately rewarded with a slew of antibiotics. Yet, just as he was about to leave the stark, sanitary rooms and the hazy musk of oversaturated, heavy-grade disinfectant, there was a flicker of lights which gave in to darkness. Having to push open the automatic doors, Elijah was ready to jump into his car and race home—sure that the power outage held a deathly omen.

  Fumbling with the keys while gripping tight a white plastic bag, Elijah almost didn’t see the swell of darkness he approached. It took two takes for him to realize what he was walking up to, but the moment he saw it, it was unmistakable that he’d found the cause of the power outage: another god.

  He was speechless—there was undeniable proof that what stood in front of him was just like him, but the darkness was thick and intimidating. Against that kind of darkness, light was sure to falter—and it didn’t help that the setting sun wouldn’t last long enough to aid Elijah in time. The notion of just talking things out or asking what was going on played through Elijah’s mind over and over again.

  But all he could do was stare in silence, mouth agape.

[aresincarnated]

terrible things; oliver & elijah

[aresincarnated]

True enough - the group (Oliver couldn’t remember what they had named themselves today, it changed too often for him to keep up with, or really care, but names like Mortals Against Divinity and Purification Organization stuck out like sore thumbs, however, he preferred ‘crazies’) had grown blood thirsty over the last few weeks, going from whispers in streets and passive-aggressive Facebook posting to full on rioting, tearing the town up with a promise of hangings. Like that was even legal anymore.

But their threats rang empty for Oliver personally; he saw no reason to take any of them seriously. Rowdy white boys, Republicans, oh-so-holy Christians that always seemed to think better of themselves, always close-minded and ignorant. Although that barbarism that festered within them was slightly attractive to Oli, he blamed it solely on the soul of Ares. Who in the hell would condone this, besides the god of war himself? 

“Ah, how do you know I’m not a member of the NRA? How do you know I don’t have a rifle on me right now, Potter?” Another sly smile rested on his lips, one more devious than before. “How do you know I’m not one of those fucks?” He laughed. Obviously he was neither a member of the NRA or the rioters, Oliver was much too contemptuous towards them to fill either requirement.

He stood, rising from his chair to full height. At six foot four, Oliver easily towered over most of the group. That alone was enough reason to not be afraid of them - that and the wonderful divine intervention he harbored and they feared.

Oliver lit a cigarette.

“They’ve only killed one person - may they rest in peace - and I don’t find them all that threatening, if I’m being real.”

[lucent-boy-blog]

  With the questions being directed back at him, Elijah rolled his eyes. Confidence had made the assumption that anyone who made snide comments like the young man did wasn’t going to be caught up in the zeal that infected the mob. If anything, Elijah typed it as some sort of amusement one could find from up on high—loftily looking down upon the fray and violence like they were somehow above it all. Narrowing his gaze at the young man, he crossed his arms in the same, unfazed, calculated way he’d stand and wait for his classroom to quiet down. A are you done? sort of expression from his face and body-language.

  Of course he knew the young man wasn’t an NRA zealot. Why even bother with the what-ifs if both of them knew that weren’t the case. Contrariness was a trait that second-graders employed, and Elijah’s became hard pressed to entertain such a conversation with the young man against the setting of a protest.

  The young man was tall—taller than Elijah expected. Nudging up his glasses to better sit at the bridge of his nose, Elijah glanced upward at the man’s features. “I wouldn’t have said anything if I thought you were,” Elijah remarked, dismissing the man’s hypotheticals “If you were one of them you’d be over there right now, wouldn’t you?”

  There was a boisterous eruption from the protest, causing Elijah to break his gaze from the man and pivot his head towards the commotion. Shouting about freaks had rung through the air since Elijah had gotten there, but suddenly the mob’s sights had been set on something or someone causing them to form around the epicenter of what was upsetting them.

  Elijah took a deep breath, wiping his hair back in some exasperation. In his pause, he muttered solemnly “Nothing’s stopping them from killing anybody else—I suppose you may not find them threatening but there’s nothing stopping them from picking you out and… well… killing you.”