[ if anyone else answered the door, it'd be awkward. luke knows what he'd say if a hunter who wasn't thalia answered. have you seen a three-headed dog? this high? kind of has a dribbling problem? and be on his way. he understands the nature of being subtle. he understands the rules of the hunters, even though he thinks that they're more like cage bars than anything else. it isn't his place to judge how another tries to cope. ]
[ he's grateful and ungrateful all at once that thalia answers the door. it's instinct to quirk his lips up at the sight of her green day shirt as he feels as though he isn't looking at someone who's outgrown him. even as a tree, she had outgrown him, becoming taller, thicker in her trunk, the roots sometimes pushing up from the ground, even though he's come to wonder if that was another tree trying to guard her. he doesn't think himself to be particularly lucky, given how his life has ridiculed him of believing in such a thing, but he thinks that he's struck it now. ]
[ a noticeable pause sits between them before he thinks to lift his gaze. looking over her shoulder, he knows he won't find a three-headed dog inside. artemis wouldn't keep cerberus in the house of her hunters, given his owner's a cranky old man. focusing his gaze back on her, he speaks as though time and distance and other feelings he doesn't want to name don't sit between them. ]
[ his tone starts conversational, as though he's not speaking to thalia grace. but by the end of it, it drifts off to become some detached thing when he no longer tries to pretend he isn't distracted from his quest from hades. ] Have you seen a three-headed dog? Dribbling problem. Kind of likes the dead.
no subject
[ he's grateful and ungrateful all at once that thalia answers the door. it's instinct to quirk his lips up at the sight of her green day shirt as he feels as though he isn't looking at someone who's outgrown him. even as a tree, she had outgrown him, becoming taller, thicker in her trunk, the roots sometimes pushing up from the ground, even though he's come to wonder if that was another tree trying to guard her. he doesn't think himself to be particularly lucky, given how his life has ridiculed him of believing in such a thing, but he thinks that he's struck it now. ]
[ a noticeable pause sits between them before he thinks to lift his gaze. looking over her shoulder, he knows he won't find a three-headed dog inside. artemis wouldn't keep cerberus in the house of her hunters, given his owner's a cranky old man. focusing his gaze back on her, he speaks as though time and distance and other feelings he doesn't want to name don't sit between them. ]
[ his tone starts conversational, as though he's not speaking to thalia grace. but by the end of it, it drifts off to become some detached thing when he no longer tries to pretend he isn't distracted from his quest from hades. ] Have you seen a three-headed dog? Dribbling problem. Kind of likes the dead.
I'm looking for him.