ARCHIVED

        HE IS A BOY,   GENTLE AS RAYS OF THE SUN,   KISSING A PLANET OF BILLIONS 'GOOD MORN'.      he is also a child.  one who bleeds sunlight & ichor.  droplets of crimson in-between, staining the ground red when it was shed.       for all the horrors that tyler sees, sometimes even daily in visions bestowed upon him by the blood of gods which flow through his veins,          he makes up for in kind with a softness…      that    this world of monsters,    tends to rob demigods of from a young age.       “ if you didn’t keep getting hurt, i wouldn’t need to keep getting so many more! “    scolds the boy,      ethereal blue eyes shifting in the light of the sun as he is forced to look up to the tall male,       whom dwarfs { the child of apollo }.  “ besides, i thought you liked these ones better than the old ones? “

                   ❝     DO YOU THINK MUCH ABOUT IT  ?      ❞                            a hesitant breath  ,    fingertips drawn in endless circles across his own palms                  *  (     he mimics the motions that rory made the night before  ,    trying to recreate the sensation of  FEELING  and  COMFORT                   something he’d forgotten  ,     something for him to never have again                            at least that’s what he’d thought  ,    that it was what the   FLAMES   had wrought upon his skin  .      eyes caught somewhere between clear skies and lips that drip with honey     /      hues of home and freedom  ,    a contradiction in existence hiding between each iris  .      he looks at the figure curiously  ,    boots scuffing against the ground as he retains a different position                            he rests so that their knees press together  ,    eager for the feeling                           with a touch feather light               (    how are you so gentle  ,    when your knuckles are scarred  /  and scarred  /  and scarred  ?           when you can still taste copper on your tongue and a fight drawn across your brow  ?   )                 he brushes the hair from rory’s forehead  ,    lets his hand fall only so their fingertips lay next to one another  ,    an open invitation  ,    a silent beckoning  .                                               ❝      how some of the gods are complete fucking   assholes  .      ❞

                     ❝     A FLOWERSHOP  ?      ❞                            curiosity whispered on his breath  ,    fingertips ghosting against the already fallen petals forgotten on a table  ,    he dares not to linger too close  --------      else the heat he bears is too  GREAT  and withers such breathtaking beauty  .           gaze rises to a lithe figure             (    does she own the shop  ?    does she work here  ?    he can’t remember the last time he saw a such a    Q U A I N T   thing    )                heart wrenching sigh  ,    fingertips retracted  ,    tucked away in his pockets to restrain his longing towards the   s o f t e r   things  .               ❝     do you know of any flowers that withstand  EXTREME  heat  ?    such as .  .  .    summer in a desert  ?      ❞

                     blade used to place the sticky sweet crimson against his tongue  ,    brows raising                 caught somewhere between curiosity and challenge alike               fingertips tap against the hilt  ,    he eats slowly  ,    if only to aggravate further  ,    to mock  -----------         you never make it easy for yourself  ,    do you  ?                       ❝     if you’re curious about the knife  ,    don’t be  .    it’s one of a kind  ,    got it a    LONG    time ago  .      ❞

                       ❝     RUINS THE  .  .  .     AESTHETIC OF IT  .     ❞                         gruff voice      *  (       though it is breathed out with such care    !     he takes heed  ,    if only for this boy  .              brow is furrowed  ,    fingertips flexed with care  ,    a certain    CURIOSITY   at the stretch of   strange colors  /  strange fabrics  over his knuckles  .               onyx hangs in his eyes  ,    allows the touches to befall the                 SUFFOCATING  /  BURNING  /  BRIMSTONE AND FIRE                of his skin  .                  exhaled  ,    only trained ears knowing the tune of      a m u s e m e n t       that hangs so achingly unfamiliar in the air  .           shifts forward so that elbows are resting on his knees  ,       face tilted upwards                   a mocking prayer  ?                relinquish your trust in the hands of such a       GENTLE     being  .                         ❝      careful  ,    i know you just bought more of these  ,    too many and you’ll have t’go back out again  .      ❞