#tellmeinstorms

[thriceblessed]

@tellmeinstorms​ 

"tell me, for a man with the skies at his fingertips, what’s your favorite weather condition?” the witch curiously eyed credence as he stumbled upon him again. his eyes traveled down from the skies to the other’s beautiful blue eyes. ones that could compete with the skies themselves or even clear waters of the rain and lake. he was a storm personified. “surely you must have one.” if the storm witch had one, then he could at least try to predict what the weather would be like around him. although he had a couple of other theories roaming around his head as well.

[necroheir]

whether by coincidence or divine intervention, the two always seemed to find themselves alone in a place of somber reflection. the weather was always gloomy, skies flecked with grey clouds and lightning, but viktor found this to be much more comforting nowadays.

“i thought about leaving,” he said to credence point-blank as an entryway into a midnight conversation. it was a thought that had weighed on his mind a while, diminished no less by his recent break-up with yves. he didn’t have an altruistic purpose like many of the other demigods did, and he didn’t think he was making much of a difference anymore. another younger, smarter, and more capable son of poseidon would replace him if he were to leave, or even die. “do you think about that?” he glanced credence’s way. “leaving.”

@tellmeinstorms​

[chtcmvrc]

if he’s honest, he doesn’t exactly know why he picked up his life and decided to answer the call, especially when he came to this camp and discovered that his mother—queen of chaos herself—doesn’t want much to do with him. 

maybe it’s the desire for a mother figure that he’s longed for since his parent’s divorce. maybe it’s because he was bored. 

he didn’t do well with boredom. 

like now, for instance. he’s watching the raven haired boy that’s hair seems to sway in a non-existent breeze. hazel eyes watch him for a moment, more than enough moments, before he leans against the door to the mageia house, arms crossed over his chest. on strap of his overalls hangs from his shoulder, revealing taut muscles underneath it, but the large bomber jacket he has over it keeps him warm in the mid january winter. 

“do you think you can help me?” he asks when the man is closer to him. “i can’t remember the password and i need to move my bags in.” he kicks his chuck taylor clad foot against the duffel bags at his feet, a sharp, twisted smile dances over his lips, inviting and dangerous. 

@tellmeinstorms

[swordofvengeance]

@tellmeinstorms​

the last time he was at camp, it was summer and the sun was shining. now, the cold seeps into his bones, down to his marrow. he wraps his arms around him, holding the edges of his large winter coat in his hands. a sensory method to keep himself grounded, to not allow himself to drift. it still feels strange, knowing that he died and that he came back; more so that months has passed. 

months. 

he flinches at the thought. 

he finds himself near the mageia house and on the side of a familiar window that he’d climbed through plenty of times before his trip to japan. even in the winter, credence has the window open to let the storm in. his hands drop to his sides and he shakes away the tension that is pulled taut between his shoulders. he stretches and can feel the familiar thrum of power in his veins—it used to be comforting—and gets a running start before he leaps up, grabbing onto the edge of the window and pulling himself up and inside. 

“miss me?” he says as his introduction—he’s pretty sure that there’s no news of his resurrection or arrival back to the camp, so he’s hoping for some shock value. 

[unholyrod]

[ @tellmeinstorms ]

it’s high up; as high as he could get, without climbing gear and a buddy for safety, and that’s where he’d found the skywatcher. snow whirled around in fat flurries, blown by lazy wind in the fading light of day. past the clouds, auroras threatened to burst through, like dancing lights hidden under layers of muddled ice.

turning to lean back on the balcony, elbows on the ledge, head tilted back far enough to look up at the sky, rod sighed through his nose.

“what’s it mean, to you?” the question’s target was clear, even if he didn’t look in the guy’s direction. nature demanded more respect, in the moment. “the whole ‘big three’ deal.”

[bindfaith]

@tellmeinstorms​ 

"for a man with little to no addictions i’m finding out why people were so fond of them back home.” after their truce, loreto didn’t want to hold any ill intent or judgment towards credence. in fact, he wanted to find ways to bond with the man and planned it during his retreat. that was why he had taken him some place close to home. not too close that he’d run into anyone, but close enough that they were in venezuela. “this place i felt like it could be sort of addictive, if not then a good place to get a release in.” the priest looked around the forested area before he looked up at the sky. “the beacon of maracaibo should be starting soon.” this was the place with the highest concentration of lightning. 28 flashes in a minute. “you’re lucky you’re immune.” 

[btchcrft]

[ through the thorny maze to the garden of whispering willows ]

@tellmeinstorms​

the maze looks intimidating as ever. taller than three demigods stacked on top of one another with thorns that look as sharp as daggers. he doesn’t know why he picked credence to do this with but, after their spar and their spat, he thinks this might be as good a way as any to get to know him, to come to terms. his eyes shine a slight silver in the moon, the pathway hidden by the bushels of thorns and vines, but still easy enough for his own eyes to see. “you better think of a good secret to whisper when we get to the garden.” kian says, “nothing that’ll make me roll my eyes, got it?” 

[asher-jones]

“Hey Credence,” the son of Cronus smirked from the door frame of the son of Zeus’ room, leaning a single shoulder against the wooden panel. If it wasn’t clear from his tone of voice that Asher definitely wanted something, it had to have been obvious the flirtatiously pleasant glint in his warm brown eyes. “If you’re not super crazy busy for the next half hour or so, do you think you could come help me with something in my room?” Asher wasn’t typically the type to use flirtation as a means to get what he wanted, but he knew Credence well enough by now to know intimidating him wouldn’t work, and this way was a bit more fun. “If you do it right, it shouldn’t take you too long.”

@tellmeinstorms​