[ luke wonders if tethers exist — he finds himself in a cycle, where he comes and goes, and when he returns the son of poseidon is always there. he haunts him in the quiet spaces of his life — where there are no quests, no heroes to save, no world to prevent from crumbling. luke wonders if any of it has anything to do with the ripple effect he has caused. he knows there is one within percy, where he had touched him so many years ago, sparking an idea within his mind that the gods are very careless creatures, no matter how they spin their wheel and thread, and that he is merely a pawn for them to play chess. ]
[ he wonders why he's here, in percy's dark little apartment, where it is bare of an architect whom luke remembers of fondly. but she is merely a ghost, the girl he remembers is far too young and far too short and sinewy rather than tall and brave and thick-skinned because of him. he wears one of percy's hoodies, it's thick and too small, but luke prefers it over being bare-chested and nude, for appearing in the world again requires him to humiliate himself with a lack of pants that are torn at the leg and a shirt that has a scar beneath the left armpit. ]
[ he sits on the bed to gain his bearings, back hunched with his hands clasped before him. he doesn't look at percy, who seems older and tired and thicker in the sense that he bears the weight of the world upon his shoulders once again. the last he saw him, it had been winter, and percy had been thinner, made of bone and barely of muscle, and there had been a haunting look in his eye. luke wonders if that's why he appears — when percy is lost, is the boy who had lost himself meant to somehow help dig within the earth to find this great, lost boy? ]
Am I still a hero? [ for you? for anyone? luke is merely the villain of the story; he knows this is why he comes. hades has no place for a usurper in hell. luke is damned to live a life where he haunts and watches those he cares about spur on without him, as if he had merely been a mere passing and forgetful thought rather than that of a burn branded into the skin of those he had touched. ]
why are you here
[ he wonders why he's here, in percy's dark little apartment, where it is bare of an architect whom luke remembers of fondly. but she is merely a ghost, the girl he remembers is far too young and far too short and sinewy rather than tall and brave and thick-skinned because of him. he wears one of percy's hoodies, it's thick and too small, but luke prefers it over being bare-chested and nude, for appearing in the world again requires him to humiliate himself with a lack of pants that are torn at the leg and a shirt that has a scar beneath the left armpit. ]
[ he sits on the bed to gain his bearings, back hunched with his hands clasped before him. he doesn't look at percy, who seems older and tired and thicker in the sense that he bears the weight of the world upon his shoulders once again. the last he saw him, it had been winter, and percy had been thinner, made of bone and barely of muscle, and there had been a haunting look in his eye. luke wonders if that's why he appears — when percy is lost, is the boy who had lost himself meant to somehow help dig within the earth to find this great, lost boy? ]
Am I still a hero? [ for you? for anyone? luke is merely the villain of the story; he knows this is why he comes. hades has no place for a usurper in hell. luke is damned to live a life where he haunts and watches those he cares about spur on without him, as if he had merely been a mere passing and forgetful thought rather than that of a burn branded into the skin of those he had touched. ]