There was nothing else to say. It was the cold, harsh truth. It felt like a knife, and hurt like a motherfucker.
Most people seemed to think Dionysus mostly tolerated his childrenāthat wasnāt true. He loved them. Deep down. Sometimes it was just a little too deep down, and it was only reached when you hit rock bottom.
Klaus died tonight. That was the thought that had everyone out of the big house that night, avoiding the wrath of a god with a human soul.
Klaus died here, so close to home- to help. To saving. That knowledge is what had him smashing everything in his room, as crops died around the globe and mortals went mad. Thunder boomed outside, and an unspoken understanding happened. A rule was lifted.
Klaus died, and it was his fault. That had him picking up the bottles. Again, and again, and again.
Did he die knowing he loved him? Did he die angry at him? Did he know he had to every right to be?
Did he die knowing his father was a coward?
Yes. He mustāve. Anyone could see it. The gods, Chiron, even his own children. For Peteās sake- Peter could.
It was a cup. It didnāt matter. Not as much as his sonās life- his safety. Whyād he send him there? It wasnāt worth it. Not worth his son dying in front of him, cracking jokes even as he bled to death.
Dionysus stared up at the ceiling blankly. Wine bottles and broken glasses were scattered about the room. The moonlight filtered in through the window. It was pretty. Too pretty for a night like this.
The floor creaked. His eyes snapped over to it.
The god hiccuped. āKlaus?ā
- @mr-d1g-bick [ghost!klaus au.. IM SORRY]
That night on half-blood hill was beautiful in a way that only death could be.
Death didnāt take Klaus clean.
Why would it? It made sense, at least to him. After years of hardship and struggles why would now be any different?
He had always imagined death would be...
A calm ride across the styx to Elysium. Where the loved ones he lost would greet him with open arms.
Klaus smiled ā A small smile. Bittersweet. Klaus still looked like Klaus.
Death hadn't changed that.
He still had the same dark curls that never quite listened to gravity, always falling into his eyes no matter how often he pushed them back.
He still had his father's face. Anyone who knew Dionysus could see it immediately. The same sharp nose, the same eyes, and that smileā¦
That familiar, lopsided grin that warned everyone around him he was about to say something clever, pull some harmless prank, or get himself into trouble.
He looked...normal. Or, at least as normal as Klaus had ever looked. Aside from the wound in his gut.
But his skin no longer looked like skin.
It shimmered faintly, translucent like a river glimmering in the moonlight.
āThatās me.ā He murmured, a small, sad smile creeping up onto his face.
