[ he gets it — why she does it, all the violence and anger. there's no disrespecting clarisse la rue. she can stand up for herself, knock down guys taller than him and bulkier than the both of them combined. it's one of the things he's always admired about her, that fire, that rage she channels to make the world a better place. some think she's a hot head, simply a stereotypical kid of ares, but luke thinks he knows better. she dislikes disrespect, just like her old man, but she dislikes it when it's aimed at people other than herself. as self-centred as she can be, clarisse is different from ares — she gives a damn about other people, sometimes even before herself. ]
[ he sometimes wishes he had had that, back when things had turned bleak. he'd severed too many ties over the years of trying to appease himself and a lord who was only using him as a tool, not as someone who was equally as hurt and angry as him. luke had sacrificed himself for family, in the end. in the beginning, it was the same reasoning — he had wanted a family, someone to love him, somewhere to belong, someone to matter to. but he'd gotten all twisted up on the inside, letting anger and resentment shape him into a person he could never recognise in the mirror. elysium had never been a motivating factor for shoving that blade into his achilles heel. he had more or less expected to be thrown into the pits of tartarus to rot with kronos' spirit. but the lord of the dead and the gods had taken pity on him, more pity than he deserved. ]
[ he doesn't let go of her wrist as he leads them to a set of traffic lights. his grip is loose, almost as if he's trying to break contact — of flesh on flesh — but without losing her in the process. stopping behind a group of people waiting to cross, he glances at her, then. ]
The next guy who whistles, you can deck him in an alley. Not out in the street where anyone can see.
[ i'll even help. it's not how it used to be, but he thinks it's pretty damn close. ]
[ the sign for pedestrian crossing flashes — ] C'mon. [ — and he tugs her across the crossing, pulling her a little closer to him in order to not lose her in the throng of mortals. ]
no subject
[ he gets it — why she does it, all the violence and anger. there's no disrespecting clarisse la rue. she can stand up for herself, knock down guys taller than him and bulkier than the both of them combined. it's one of the things he's always admired about her, that fire, that rage she channels to make the world a better place. some think she's a hot head, simply a stereotypical kid of ares, but luke thinks he knows better. she dislikes disrespect, just like her old man, but she dislikes it when it's aimed at people other than herself. as self-centred as she can be, clarisse is different from ares — she gives a damn about other people, sometimes even before herself. ]
[ he sometimes wishes he had had that, back when things had turned bleak. he'd severed too many ties over the years of trying to appease himself and a lord who was only using him as a tool, not as someone who was equally as hurt and angry as him. luke had sacrificed himself for family, in the end. in the beginning, it was the same reasoning — he had wanted a family, someone to love him, somewhere to belong, someone to matter to. but he'd gotten all twisted up on the inside, letting anger and resentment shape him into a person he could never recognise in the mirror. elysium had never been a motivating factor for shoving that blade into his achilles heel. he had more or less expected to be thrown into the pits of tartarus to rot with kronos' spirit. but the lord of the dead and the gods had taken pity on him, more pity than he deserved. ]
[ he doesn't let go of her wrist as he leads them to a set of traffic lights. his grip is loose, almost as if he's trying to break contact — of flesh on flesh — but without losing her in the process. stopping behind a group of people waiting to cross, he glances at her, then. ]
The next guy who whistles, you can deck him in an alley. Not out in the street where anyone can see.
[ i'll even help. it's not how it used to be, but he thinks it's pretty damn close. ]
[ the sign for pedestrian crossing flashes — ] C'mon. [ — and he tugs her across the crossing, pulling her a little closer to him in order to not lose her in the throng of mortals. ]