#drsorenson

[diangelo-nico]

//*bides time patiently waiting*

[diangelo-nico]

The Trusted Mender // {Edgar & Nico}

Hades stood tall tolerating his son with barely concealed disinterest. His brow rose high mirroring the expression that Nico had on his face. "You want to follow that guy?" Nico's voice had deepened over the years, the bass notes hinting at displeasure at such a chore. He was tired of reconnaissance and as much as he didn't want to admit it, he'd prefer to go back to California to see Hazel instead.

"Asclepius and his breed have always given me trouble," Hades' voice was cold, chilling the air around them. Persephone's warmth was absent from the room, heating the above world so that crops may grow and flourish. "You are to do as I say, Nico Di Angelo, and follow him. Make sure he is not following in his father's footsteps against me." Hades waved his hand and a familiar, nauseating feeling tugged at Nico's body. Darkness invaded his vision and when it cleared he was standing in a meadow.

Nico retched to the side, spilling the contents of his stomach onto the roots of a tree. He hoped he hadn't upset any nymphs with that but he couldn't find it in himself to care if he had. The young man had worked his way out of being sick to being frustrated, kicking a pebble on the ground before taking in his surroundings. It was just like his father to be short but- seriously? - warning would have been nice this time around. Around him trees and nature shined vibrantly in the early morning sun. The birds chirped and despite his presence, nothing was dead yet which was pretty great. He sighed and set to looking for this 'Son of Asclepius' guy.    

[jewelsforsupper]

He sinks his teeth into his bottom lip while a timid chortle slips out, and the fair-haired removes the lid of the box to reveal a neatly folded black scarf with skull patterns on it. "Do you like it?" The tone used in the question is shy, as he verily hopes that the other male likes the little gift.

Ａ bright grin touched his lips at the sight of the scarf and Lemmi pulled the black cloth out of the box to coil it around his neck earlier than he took out the rose from betwixt his teeth, lying his eyes upon the gentleman. “It’s beautiful,” said the boy who was smoothing down the fabric, “Merci.”

[jewelsforsupper]

"Happy birthday, Lemmi." Bestowing a buoyant smile, Edgar lends him a white gift box with a red rose atop it.

Ｔｈｅ blond let out a soft giggle and took the present, "My, my..." he brought the rose close to his nose and breathed the scent in as his glance fell to the box in his other hand, "I hope you knew what I fancy," a playful smirk appeared on his face just after he placed the flower's stem in between his teeth to open the present.

[jewelsforsupper]

• Lost Kitten •

Ｌｏｕｄ footfalls on the concrete sidewalk accompanied by short gasps rose for a dance in the cold air whilst skeletal fingers made their way towards one of the rolled sleeves of the grey shirt to pull the fabric down by its cuff and veil the owner's bleeding forearm. Strands of light blond hair swayed messily before the pair of pale green orbs which was locked onto a dark alley as long as the rosy lips remained parted in order to let the heavy breaths escape. The arms never stopped swinging to mimic the fast pace of the legs until the buildings finally shielded those skinny limbs and body from getting hit by the rays of the street lamps.

Panting and tightening his collared shirt around his torso, the boy glanced back over his shoulder throughout his slow journey in the quiet alley. The scene that unfolded in the nightclub a while ago rushed through the teenager's mind merely after he turned his head away from the empty sidewalk with a sigh of relief. This was the second time someone started an argument concerning work with him, but he had never thought his opponent would attack and chase him out of the establishment like a wild animal. A faint moan of his cracked the silence as he led his five digits to his injured right forearm, curled all of them about the said form and let the sleeve absorb the blood, causing him to recall the moment when his foe broke a cocktail glass and slashed his forearm with a large piece earlier than he ran out of the nightclub like a bat out of hell.

He walked deeper into the narrow lane, straining his eyes sometimes since he could only rely upon the poor beams that shot through the windows. It took him quite a while to find a spot on the pavement for him to collapse and press his back against the wall regardless of its filthiness. He dropped his gaze to his forearm, loosened his grip on the wound ever so slightly and winced once he observed his own blood smearing his palm. Breathing, calmly and leaning his head on the upright structure, he lifted his weak eyes to the dark sky that lacked stars then, closed them, slowly with a small frown and thought this should be the best place to hide from the one who was hunting for him.