#lightspills

[apxllxascending-blog]

                  lightspills

    “HEY!” Enjolras pushed the other man away, stepping out of his embrace. “What are you doing? Do I know you?” He demanded in rapid succession, taking a few steps back to place distance between himself and the other. 

     The man in front of him looked slightly familiar in the way that Enjolras thought he might have seen him somewhere on the street before. No major memories were stirred by those dark eyes, eyes that seemed older than the man looked. There seemed to be something hidden on his face, something unreadable, and Enjolras was compelled to ask, “what is it?”

[warshields-blog]

       --- lightspills

Patroclus froze, his eyes remaining fixed on his hand for a moment before they flicked up to the man’s face. The kiss pressed to his knuckles was clearly a sign of respect– but what was he that deserved to be respected? He was nothing special– he was nothing, especially next to Achilles. He pulled his hand away slowly, the slightest of smiles touching his lips. “–What was that?”

     Ajax watched the young man --  he and his prince were boys no longer  -- with      the trace of a smile on his lips.  “What did it seem like?”  There were more      things to be respected for than prowess on the field of battle.  Patroclus was a       good man, a good healer. Those who saw him as nothing more than Achilles’s      shadow were fools in the armor of kings. Ajax was no fool.

[warshields-blog]

                lightspills

     There are days where his memory LAPSES in on itself and it feels as       though he is waking surrounded by sand and salt air, not in the soft bed       of his apartment; he glimpses himself in the mirror and still sees the       king he once was with sturdy Eurysaces at his back. 

     Today has been one of those days. 

     Ajax moves s l o w e r on days like this, as though the age of his SOUL       catches up with everything else. He’s not needed on set today and takes      advantage of his freedom to surround himself with modernity, anything      that will ground him to here and now. He walks through the city, lets the      blare of car horns and foot traffic wash over him before he finally ducks      ( literally ) into a coffee shop. 

     “Apologies,” he says after bumping into someone. And it’s a testament      to how out of touch he is right now that the boy in front of him invokes      memories of sand and blood and broken armor. It’s a foolish thought. But      still he asks, “Have we met?”

[glorystarved-a]

( * lightspills liked this for a TFLN starter ; )

        ↪ ( text ) : We got security called on us. Apparently the wedding                           down the street didn't appreciate the trespassing or our                           loud as fuck rendition of We Are Young.

[glorystarved-a]

out of chill. achilles pelides: professional boyfriend-snuggler.