#lucien gray

[boyofzoot]

KILL THE PAST (ALBUM)

[cohst]

album art for KILL THE PAST: vocals: @bloodnet // Lucien Gray prod: @cohst // Cohst art: @44insects

[bloodnet]

SEX PISTOLS // Guido Mista prod. @cohst || Art by @dokkin-doll 

Spotify || Soundcloud

[bloodnet]

Gyro Zeppeli prod. @cohst || Art by @dokkin-doll

Spotify || Soundcloud

[roses-and-grimoires]

Prompt #26: Somnolent

Characters: Lucien Setting: Changeling: the Lost

He walks through dreams.

These days, it is almost as easy as walking through his front door (though he remembers when it wasn't). He slips between realities that exist only in the minds of those asleep, mundane and fantastical alike.

Some he does not touch, merely observes for a moment before going on. Others, he takes a more active hand in. The teenager running from the too-tall monster with eyes like their father and radiating disappointment finds the monster is much smaller than they remember, enough so that they can trap it in a glass jar. The woman dreaming of just one pleasant day with her boyfriend is suddenly confronted with his twisted, raging form as the veneer is stripped away.

He leaves weapons in his wake for those who need them. He leaves comfort for those who do not. And he leaves fear for whose need the motivation.

For he is Sir Lucien of the Autumn Court, and he knows firsthand just what effect dreams can have. And so, in his own way, he can make the world just a little better.

[roses-and-grimoires]

Prompt #21: Freedom

Characters: Lucien Setting: Changeling: the Lost Warnings: Blood

So this was what winning felt like.

He wouldn't call it triumph; he was too tired and too hurt for that. They were all too tired and too hurt for that. His back felt as if it were on fire, and there was sure to be blood staining the car seat when he stood.

But they were all alive. And their Keeper, the bastard who had ruined all of their lives, was dead. Perhaps, one day, another fae would step up and take up his Title, but that would not be for some time, and they wouldn't know of them, of all of those who had escaped his grasp.

They were free. Truly, finally free.

No more huntsmen with their names as their quarries. No more Wild Hunt aimed specifically towards them. They were alive and he was dead and they could live. It wasn't the same life he had left, no, but this new one he had come to treasure.

He sags in his seat, his head coming to rest against the cool car window as dawn crests over the mountains in the distance and illuminates the town laid out below. Tears prickle at the corners of his eyes as he bites down on a sob.

Free, free, free, free.

The word echoes in his mind, so simple and yet so full of possibility. He wouldn't have to worry to about Xavier any more, he wouldn't have to live with the guilt of knowing that every second he was with him brought him into even more danger. While the guilt over the burn scars on his legs would never truly go away, it would become less until it was naught more than a bitter Halloween dream.

As the sun rises he starts to hum, then sing along with the music blaring from the radio, and this time there is no fear of blowing out eardrums or windows. Not now. Not today. And not ever again.

He would not live in fear any more.

[roses-and-grimoires]

Prompt #6: Ethos

Characters: Lucien Setting: Changeling: the Lost

Through his captivity, through the upending of his life, through the desperate scramble to pick up the pieces, there was one thing that Lucien knew to be true: you didn't abandon your friends.

The lesson had been imparted too deeply in long days on the road and long nights smoking weed and talking about the nature of existence while trying to come up with something to sing for their next gig. It had been carved into his bones when he had gotten his arm broken by a neo-Nazi, and another member of his band had broken their nose in turn. It was a rule born of necessity, of solidarity, of principle.

And yet. And yet. Here he was.

Contemplating a betrayal.

Because the old witch in the library had been kind to him. Had watched his back when no else would. Had vouched for him, given him clout and standing when many would barely even speak to him. Taking that book, even if it would be returned later, would be a violation of trust. And while the scarecrow had said it was for curiosity's sake, he doesn't actually believe it. He's not stupid enough to believe it.

And yet what else was he supposed to do?

He stares at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. There is no mask to cloud his sight, and so he can see every detail of his pale plastic skin and hinged mouth and the collar of gold around his throat. He can see the lightning that crackles uselessly around his hands as he buries his face in them.

He was a knight of Autumn, a member of the Dreaming Freehold, a changeling gifted with the Wyrd.

And what good did it do him now?

For he could hear Xavier snoring in the other room. Xavier, who had no idea what he had done to help one of his friends. Xavier, whose life would be ruined along with his if that photo ever saw the light of day. For he had asked so much of him already, and it was unfair to ask even more, especially when what he would be asking was to essentially go on the run with him.

No. He had been working too hard to build this life, to have a chance at a future here. He could not let that be ruined because someone had managed to take a picture that implicated him in the recent art theft.

So there was really no choice at all, was there?

No choice at all, but to betray one person for another. To accept that some principles had to be broken in the name of love. And surely that in and of itself was a form of loyalty?

The thought was rather cold comfort as he crept through the room and went to lay under the covers with his lover, who continued to sleep soundly even as he lay wide awake with his thoughts ablaze with anger and regret.

For no matter what he did, there was really no way for him to win.