I've been working on my fic for @patrochillesweek and I HOPE to have it ready by the end of the event lolol...pray for me 🥲
It's a Reincarnation!AU where after Pat's death Achilles blasphemes so hard that the gods deny him the right to die so he drifts aimlessly through the centuries trying to find him... until he does, in victorian London :)) and yes Achilles is a vampire in this because I make the rules:
A cluster of well dressed young lords and ladies are gathered around a man leisurely reclined upon a settee; the black velvet mask he is wearing accentuates his sharp features rather than hides them, and his burgundy brocade outfit is elegant in its simplicity. His sunkissed skin and the golden hair that spills about his shoulders make him look like an Olympian god plucked straight out of a Roman fresco.
Pat jumps when Bri elbows him in the arm. “There he is!” she hisses in his ear.
“The Count I was telling you about! That's him, over there.”
Pat can only stare stupidly at the man. He looks so out of place in that ballroom; the rich fabric of his suit cannot hide the powerful muscles hiding underneath, or the way he moves, like a lion poised to strike. He would be much better suited to a field of battle, Pat thinks, or a dust-covered training ground. But at the same time there's something so soft about him, like he is made to lie upon soft pillows, sipping on spiced wine and wearing very little, perhaps nothing at all.
Pat blushes at his own thoughts, which seem to have come out of nowhere. This is not the time or place for them, and besides, he doesn’t know the man. He almost turns away, when Bri's cousin takes his and Bri's hands and pulls them towards him.
“I'll introduce you!” she says cheerfully. “I met him a few weeks ago; he's so peculiar. You're going to love him.”
Pat can do nothing but let himself be dragged while trying desperately not to spill his drink. His cheeks are already flushed when Iris pushes her way to the front of the throng of people and smiles brightly at the man.
“My dear Count!” She exclaims. “How lovely to see you again. I trust you enjoyed your trip to France?”
The Count turns to her, his lips half parted and ready to reply, when his eyes fall on Pat. And there they stay, the man’s entire countenance freezing in something akin to shock and awe. His eyes are the most vibrant, piercing green Pat has ever seen, and his gaze is just as penetrating; Pat struggles to meet it.
“Here is my cousin, and her friend,” Iris continues, unperturbed by his silence. “They were dying to meet you.”
The Count still doesn't speak. He is staring at Pat, unblinking. Pat swallows and shuffles awkwardly on his feet, glancing behind his shoulder to make sure the man is in fact looking at him, and not at something behind him.
When he turns back around, the Count has pushed himself to his feet and is now standing before him, looming over him. He is even more impressive in his full height, and Pat can do nothing but stare back.
“I am Achilles,” the Count says in his strange, foreign accent. “Achilles of Phthia, son of Peleus.” He extends his hand to him.
Pat hesitates only for a moment before he clasps it. Achilles has a firm grip, but it still somehow manages to be gentle, and the touch sends a shiver cascading through Pat.
“I didn’t quite catch your name,” Achilles says.
“Uh— it's Pat. My friends call me Pat.”
“Pat.” The Count's lips curl in a smile; it crinkles the corners of his eyes beneath his mask, his gaze warm with inexplicable affection. “I hope you don't mind if I call you that.”
“N-no, it's fine,” Pat stammers. His heart is beating a frantic rhythm at their proximity and the intensity of the Count's gaze. Someone speaks, tries to get his attention, but Achilles never takes his eyes off him. It’s like the whole world has disappeared and it's only them.
Tagging forth to @baejax-the-great @tragediegh @darlingpoppet @spineless-lobster @in-arlathan @pikapeppa and anyone else who wants to share a snippet of their work!
