pouring him a generous amount of amber liquor, she capped the decanter with a flourish. “ actually, yes, i am the goddess of the sun. finally, someone notices, ” returned vasilisa with a dramatic sigh, lips edging up in amusement. “ the greek one, who was it? eos? ” she wondered absentmindedly before her attention snapped back to luc. like her, he seemed terribly unconcerned. unlike her, he took to the shadows like second nature; she always thought she was best suited underneath brilliant lights.
“ and you, my darling— you wear that smile too often. ” pointing a finger at him in feigned accusation, she tapped it to her lips. “ let me guess, you’re going to suggest we play a game in the dark. like hide and seek. ”
' that smile? ‘ he asked in a mocking tone, his voice light as ever as though it were dancing with the flickers of light between fleeting moments. a corner of his lips arching higher, he leaned in to take a whiff of his drink. amber essence flooding his senses, rose hues flushing his features.
‘ i think not, but each to their own opinion. i find it brings me exactly where i feel i need to be in life. ‘
a gasp, breath sucked into his lungs kept in for a moment before being released into the surrounding world. his attention directed to the dark haired woman, he added; ‘ i did no such thing, but from where i stand... that seems like quite the grande idea. i vote we play game of hide and seek, unless of course, you feel that might be too terrifying? given that everyone is scared... i wouldn’t hold it against you, my dear. ‘
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History is a terrible burden to bear. She’s not quite sure where she heard the phrase last. Perhaps it was her mother who said it while tucking her into bed one night. Or professor Wolf with his poetic manner of speech. Wherever it originated from was a pale and distant memory, growing ever more elusive every moment she spent inside the house. But the phrase remained and found a physical form - one named Luc Rioux.
Anke didn’t know him well. She didn’t know him at all. It wouldn’t have mattered if she didn’t notice the small signs - his discomfort whenever she slipped into her mother tongue, his voice turning quieter as she entered the room. The fact that he seemed to evasive, a phantom to her but to no one else. In her search for an explanation, the year 1955 comes up. She connects the dots. Her theory makes her sick to her stomach. So she avoids him, too.
But unfortunate circumstances brought them together. There, in the lobby, surrounded by candles, Anke tried to focus on her notebook and not the nervous stutter in his voice. It would be best, she wanted to stay, but her mouth remained shut, a hand scribbling messy notes under the title power outage (Stormausfall. She sincerely hoped it was too dark for him to see it). If she was to understand the workings of The Raven House, this predicament of theirs could prove invaluable. His question, however, made her hand stop in its place.
“Just…taking notes,” has her English always been so plagued with her mother tongue? “about what’s happening. Also, I’m trying to determine whether the candles are burning slower or faster than…on the outside.” She stopped herself before she got carried away. Rather, she hoped a single candle, as strange as it sounded, would offer an insight into how time runs in the house. It was easier said than done.
too far to see, yet close enough to witness.
his entire life seemed to be an array of events he didn’t quite understand, but to turn away would be wrong. and this moment was no different. he was here now, there was no turning back. and so, releasing a breath he didn’t know he was holding in, he took the first step. one step at a time, the young man crossed the room until he was standing beside anke.
the hairs on his arms standing upright-- as though a window was open, letting the cold autumn air in. but, when he glanced up, searching in the darkness, he found this was not the case. shifting his weight from one leg to the other, the young man drew his attention to the candles that the young woman had been observing. to determine whether the candles are burning slower or faster than on the outside. it took him a moment to connect the dots, the outside-- a foreign concept at this point in time.
a concept that lived solely through memory. and, memory faded. to see the truth beyond sentiment was a difficult task, when one wasn’t sure what was true and what was false. memories merged, they blurred, the fine line between reality and dream becoming unrecognizable the more time passed. his heart ached to embrace his sister once more, to see his mother’s smile-- and even to see his father scowl. but, life had chosen a different direction for luc.
once upon a dream...
but, this was his life now. this was his home. the people he met here, became his family. a dysfunctional patchwork family. all but one. perhaps, he had been too fast to jump to conclusions. losing his mind in the past-- irrational behaviour based on disproportionate gut feeling. ‘ how do you ... determine such a thing? how do you know how fast a candle would burn elsewhere? ‘ the words seemed to fall from his lips, before he even thought of them. the confusion obvious as ever at the task she was completing. and why now? the questions never seemed to end.
the game they had been playing had been fun, remnants of a childhood lost. whilst most guests spent their night horrified of the events that had passed, luc had been searching the entire premise for vasya, and once found she returned the favour. somewhere along the way, he had lost her-- the most probable solution to this issue was to go to the bar. after all, that was the place vasya would most likely be found at.
in her stead, he found a familiar face. a glimpse of a life he once lived, a life beyond this gilden cage. he found none other than dominique.
a warm sensation grew in his chest, corners of his lips immediately turned upwards, and a shimmer ever present in emerald hues. ‘ bonsoir ! ‘ with a certain skip in his step, the young man crossed the room before leaning ever so slightly against her frame, his head lingering upon her shoulder. cheerful as ever he added in his maternal language, ‘ ah, are we drinking? mind if i join? ‘
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the initial jolt of seeing a man step out of the darkness faded quickly as she recognized his face and she smiled in relief. ‘oh thank goodness, i was starting to worry everyone had vanished!” she exclaimed, twisting her fingers in the fabric of her skirt. the smooth texture was calming, it didn’t grate on her nerves like some of her old dresses had, tangling and hanging too heavy or too light. it had been the first gift she’d allowed herself in the hotel, a tentative question to the closet one night.
as luc sat down across from her she was grateful for the warmth of the candles. a better reason for the heat she could feel coming over her, ears burning in what was surely just nerves from the darkness. she wasn’t sure what the words he said meant, but the gentle tone sent her reaching into her pocket and gripping the cold metal band sewn inside. for comfort, for surety, she wasn’t quite sure. ‘i- i thought it would be smart to stay somewhere where others might come along, but- well, you’re the only one to show up so far and i’d rather not sit here alone any longer.’ reaching out, she lifted one of the candles by its holder gently, careful not to let it blow out. ‘where to?’
the sound of relief in her voice was comforting, seeing bonnie afraid was not something he enjoyed seeing. ‘ it was a brilliant idea, and thanks to said brilliant idea i was lucky enough to find you. ‘ a soft chuckle escaped his lips as the young man leaned back into his seat yet again. he had a horrible habit of speaking with his hands, and so the words he spoke often followed with wild hand gestures. this very moment was no excuse to that rule.
‘ i was thinking we might explore the rooftop? ‘ pausing momentarily the young man raised his brows slightly-- a gleaming smile ever so present on his features. ‘ i think some fresh air, and a starry sky might be the best solution to whatever this is. ‘ he could tell that the current situation, the power outage, brought the young woman discomfort-- and he wasn’t about to let that be the case for the rest of the night. he hoped, that maybe, being able to somewhat leave the raven house would ease her mind.
event » candlelight location » somewhere in the raven house
it wasn’t that he didn’t like her... he was sure that anke was a wonderful person-- actually, no, he wasn’t sure about any of that. he didn’t know her at all, despite having resided in the same building for far too long. and it was entirely his fault-- the young man withdrew when she entered a room. when she spoke, he shut down. he didn’t make an effort to get to know her, and truly it was his loss (not that he would know about that).
so, when the young man found himself in the same room as her / alone, at that / he was far from comfortable. the usual manner in which he held himself, his confidence, suddenly lacking. head lowered he began to fumble with his fingers, ‘ uhh... sorry, i can-- uh i can leave if you want to be alone. ‘ he muttered before tilting his head to the side, emerald green hues averting to glance upon the young woman. his curiosity got the best of him. he couldn’t evade her presence forever. ‘ what exactly is it that you are doing? ‘ he had seen her, notebook in hand, making observations, drawing conclusions, setting up hypothesis about the raven house-- something about scientific method, or so he was told-- he had always been rather horrible at all things scientific.
Trying to ignore the fact that she was the spitting image of a horror movie protagonist, entering a poorly lit basement with only a candlestick in hand for light, Ela was glad that she didn’t believe in ghosts or supernatural creatures. What she did fear was her fellow humans, and the thing that gave her a hint of nerves was the thought that a baddie could be lurking out of sight.
She tried to shake the notion off, and focus on locating the electrical box. It had to be down here somewhere…. The problem was the basement was full of random clutter she had to weave around. An old arcade game, dusty with a crack through the screen, suddenly caught her eye. It was one she and her brother used to play all the time when they were young… Drawn to it, she pushed the electricity issues aside for the moment and slowly approached.
Just as she reached the machine a sound from behind had her on instant alert. Ela whirled around, holding the candle up higher in an effort to better illuminate the space, to little effect. “Hello…?” she called out, squinting and seeing nothing but shadows around her.
' je t'ai trouvé ! tu dois mieux te cacher la prochaine fois... ‘ found you ! you need to hide better next time... it was only after the words left his lips that luc realized that the woman before him was not actually vasya. ‘ ah non... pardon-- ‘ his mind quickly scrambling for the right words, perhaps taking english lessons from tommy had not been his most brilliant idea-- but he was progressing nonetheless. closing his eyes momentarily, his hand was brought up to meet his forehead, the right words simply weren’t coming to him. he had been so comfortable speaking in french with vasya during their game of hide and seek, that it felt twice as difficult to try to switch to english.
but he would try his best.
‘ i thought you were someone else-- what are you doing down here? ‘ brows twisted as he glanced around the rest of the dimly lit room. there were odd objects laying around, many of which he did not recognize-- few he rejoiced at seeing. it was, however, an odd place to remain on one’s own during this time. the thought of trying to fix the electricity issue himself, was not one that had crossed his mind.
chapter : book i, chapter i location : lobby convenience store tagging : @lucrloux
it was not as if the lobby convenience store ever really was a place you had to pay for things. maybe they charged your room, but tommy had never seen a bill. plus, he’d paid of the original motel in cash, so it wasn’t as if they could really hold him to anything. besides, he’d never asked to stay here this long, and while tommy knew relatively little about the legal system, that felt like something he shouldn’t be held responsible for. but no, it was not a place where you typically had to pay for things and yet, the darkness that had enveloped the hotel had raised in tommy an impulse that was likely rooted in him from the years he spent living with relatively little. darkness is a good cover, and it makes you harder to catch. darkness was a good excuse to take what you needed.
besides, the lack of electricity meant the items in the fridge would go bad soon. tommy was really doing everyone a favor. he sees luc walk in from his position, camped on the floor with his back against the cool glass door. ‘ dude, c’mere. ice cream pints are gonna go all soupy in about thirty minutes. you want one ? ’
it hadn’t been long since the darkness took over raven house, silence rang clearly through the halls-- it felt as though the entire world had fallen asleep and woken up at the same time. but, he wouldn’t know for he remained confined within it’s walls, in a sense the world to luc was now nothing more than the premises of the raven house. tragic. he stumbled through the darkness until he finally found what he was looking for, his stomach had been twisting and turning all day-- he had forgotten to eat yet again. it happened rather often, mostly when he was entranced by the canvas before him.
a candle in hand, the lobby convenience store seemed a lot smaller than during the day. sky blue hues swept over the contents of the room before his attention landed on none other than tommy. a wide grin immediately appeared on his features and the young man launched himself forward, taking a seat beside the other on the floor. ‘ you are a genius. ‘ he paused before adding, ‘ of course ! comment dit-on... ah oui... only if you--uhm, prepare ( yes, that’s the word ! ) yes, if you prepare it with all those candies and things like the americans do in your time ! s'il te plaît ! ‘ excitement radiated off the young man as he glanced around to see what possible creation they could come up with. he was but a child in a candy store-- everything readily available for the taking.
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you needed a community to survive. bonnie had learned that before she was even weaned, before she began to speak. if your livestock die one year, if your harvest is plagued by insects and vermin, you don’t make it if your neighbors don’t step up to help. it was maybe the hardest thing about the hotel, being wrenched from her family, not knowing who here was telling the truth, what other people might have done to deserve this. bonnie had lived her life on stable soil and now far too often she felt as if she was tumbling through the air.
still clutching the items she’d been holding when the lights went off she finally made it safely down the stairway. maybe there would be more people down here, maybe even someone who knew what had happened with the lights. the candles glowing provided some relief and she hurried over to sit in their light. the room was silent for a while and she began to regret being in the light. so close to them, she couldn’t see out into the shadows, and it was as if she were all alone in the world. at last she heard footsteps and her heart leapt. ‘hello?’ she called out into the black. ‘are they- has anyone found out what’s going on?’
his vision was of no use, for the flickering of a candle in the distance did not do much to help the situation. instead, luc found he had to rely on his sense of touch. an arm extended, fingers trailing against the wall he slowly wandered forward into the darkness. this entire ordeal, was possibly the only normal thing about the raven house. its usual functionality disturbed by something so ordinary as a power outage, and something about that brought his mind to ease. not before long, the young man had wandered into an open space, he could make out the silhouette of a young woman-- nothing more. and then she spoke, and within an instant he placed the voice to none other than bonnie.
bonnie whitaker. kindness seemed to radiate off her, wherever she went. it was cute. a soft smile slipped across his lips as the young man moved out of the shadows, lingering by her side for a moment before taking comfort in the seat opposite her. ‘ ma chère... ‘ he paused, shifting his weight in his seat ever so slightly, his upper body leaning forward, arms resting comfortably upon his knees, ‘ surely, it nothing, the lights will return soon i’m certain. ‘ sky blue hues averted to meet her own, ‘ but for now... will you join me on an expedition into the unknown? ‘
timestamp: —— , NULL . · location: where else? the raven house , MADNESS TAKES IT’S TOLL . · tagging: open for everyone !
when the power flickered the first time, macie thought maybe she was seeing things. maybe the exhaustion or the stress or something had finally caused her to snap. but then it happened again, and again, until finally the power disappeared completely, leaving the room with a gentle hum. “ shit, ” the word is blown out on a soft breath. fingers instantaneously slide down her thigh to reaffirm that the bowie knife, her safety net, was still within reach as if it ever left. it lessens the tightening in her chest. she fumbles around in the dark for the candle that is kept on the desk in her room. she’d only thought it was decorative. when her fingers finally find purchase on it, she realizes there’s no point. she doesn’t have a light.
stepping into the hall does nothing to help the uneasiness that has settled into her stomach. no emergency lights. what kind of fucking nightmare was this? there’s something, maybe it’s anxiety or knowing she’s been caught in situations like this before, that makes her grip the bowie. using her other hand, she feels down the wall as she walks for the dip that will lead to the stairs. it’s only when she hits the bottom that she runs clear into another body. “ fuck! ” c’mon sullivan, you’re better than that — but hey, at least you didn’t stab them.
the glass which had been so idly placed in his hand moments before, had been set down somewhere in the parlour. after taking a few steps, the young man came to accept that he would likely never find it again in this lighting. and so, he abandoned it. who knew, perhaps this would be the first time something would collect dust in the raven house. a part of him was delighted to find out, another yearned for the return of his glass. alas he began his journey through the dark, fingers trailing against the wall in the hopes they would guide him toward the door.
it didn’t bother him much-- as a matter of fact it didn’t bother him at all. perhaps, he should have been more wary of what lurked in the shadows. perhaps he should have quivered, frozen or at the very least demonstrated some semblance of disapproval. instead, the young man found acceptance. this was nothing new to him-- it was comforting even. comforting to know that this gilden cage didn’t function flawlessly. he learned to be wary of things that were too good to be true-- for they generally housed the most twisted secrets. and this place? it was but a well-oiled machine. each gear falling into place, running effortlessly like clockwork. it seemed only natural something should go wrong. even a clock had to be rewound eventually.
lost in his thoughts the young man barely noticed another figure approaching-- the moment he did, it was already too late. bodies collided and he stumbled back within an instant. icy blue hues searching for an outline, at the very least, of the person he had run into. ‘ merde ! ‘ it felt only natural for him to slip into the tongue so familiar to him when in a state of surprise, ‘ est-ce que-- ‘ ah right, he wasn’t in paris anymore. he wasn’t at home... and so he corrected himself, ‘ are you ok? ‘
music cuts, lights go out; the quiet hits her first. do you know what it is like to sit in silence? you still hear tchaikovsky in your dreams. unease settles, and she washes it down with the rest of her scotch. if this malfunction is out of her hands, then at least she refuses to be scared.
someone takes the seat across from her, though she can’t make out their features in the dim candlelight, the only illumination left. and what a pathetic glow it is—for all its opulence, the raven house should sorely invest in working lightbulbs. “ i don’t suppose you are an electrician, ” she says dryly, pouring herself another glass before holding the decanter out. “ drink? ”
within an instant darkness swallowed the building, shadows making themselves known in a sweeping movement. it was far from unknown to the young man-- the power outage was welcomed like an old friend. a semblance of comfort, a flaw in the usually operative building. corners of his lips twisted up into his usual grin-- charming with a flash of something else; something catching.
dim light granted by few candles reflected in sky blue eyes as the young man averted to meet her gaze. ‘ well, aren’t you sunshine taken mortal form? ‘ leaning further back into the comfort his seat, crystal was brought up to his lips-- the last remnants of liquid gold was emptied down his throat. ‘ a top up would be grand... ‘ he muttered, arm extending in her direction with a now empty glass.
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hello ! my name is ani and i am so excited to be here ! below the cut you can find some information on my son, luc ! if you are interested in plotting please feel free to like this post or simply shoot me a message !
— the OVERVIEW !
( WOLFGANG NOVOGRATZ, CIS MALE, HE/HIM — oh gosh, sorry LUC RIOUX ! i didn’t see you there ! y'know, i can’t believe you’re already 26 years old; seems like just yesterday you were tripping over yourself, or was that yesterday ? just kidding, just kidding ! anyway, i hear that you’ve been here since 1955, or so you think; congratulations ! at least that shining EXTROVERTED personality of yours hasn’t changed a bit, especially that OBSERVANT + CHARMING, but IMPULSIVE + FRAUDULENT way about you. look, i gotta get back to the group, but i’ll see you around !
tw: ww2, alcohol, smoking.
— the BASICS !
full name / luc rioux.
nickname / lu, lucky.
age / twenty-six (26).
year of disappearance / 1955.
date of birth / 7th april.
star sign / aries.
hometown / paris, france.
current location / raven house.
nationality / french.
gender / cis male.
pronouns / he/him.
sexual orientation / bisexual/biromantic.
occupation / art forger.
language(s) spoken / french & english.
faceclaim / wolfgang novogratz.
— the STORY !
there is meaning in all things… but are you paying attention?
tiny fingers curled around mother’s hand, green eyes glossed over in an attempt to take in the world but it is too much– there is too much for you to see. you hear whispers of difficult times, hushed tones floating through otherwise empty halls. mother and father try to hide their worry from you. they try their best to keep the world beyond arched windows hidden, though even a simple glance outside gives way to their delicately spun tales. you see figures rushing past, always in a hurry– never stopping to look at the beauty in this world. as the months grow colder, their features fall– worry encompasses all the shadows you have yet to know.
would you look at it?
the world as you know it crumbled, nothing is as it was. nothing will ever be as it was before, times are changing and so are you. your heart yearns for simpler days spent chasing your sister up and down flights of stairs, dancing in the rain and watching father unfold the morning paper without scowling at the newest headlines. this world is not for you– this world is rough, it is cold, it is void of what makes us human. you are yet too young to understand the gravity of it all, but you see the pain. you see the exhaustion in people’s faces, the darkness beneath growing with each moment that passes. you watch it reach out from the corners, you watch it divide those you know and care for. you don’t understand, but you are filled with sorrow for them. you roll up your sleeves, and help where you can.
you watch father leave for war, his head held high wearing his pride visibly on his chest. for a moment you fear you might never see him again, but mother is there to hold you, to carry your burden. you fear he might never return. and then a letter arrives, you only catch a glimpse of it before mother tears it from your grasp. you see her tears fall, and though you cannot know for sure– you know it must be about father. you pray for his safe return, but in his stead soldiers enter your home. they speak a foreign tongue, and though you do not understand– you are told to fear them. and most importantly, to keep your sister safe.
your life has changed so drastically. you now serve the soldiers who have taken over your home, you bring them their morning coffee and scramble away as fast as you can. every part of you is filled with rage, you wish for nothing more than things to return to what they were before. you yearn to see your mother’s smile, but these days even the light in her eyes seems to have vanished. and though you are young, you must grow up fast. you must protect your family at all costs, but even so you cannot bear to bite your tongue and hold in your obvious distaste for these men. your sister tries to keep you in check, but you cannot help spitting in their cup, you cannot help calling them names, you cannot help making them feel unwanted in your home. and whilst you feel good in the moment, the punishment is always severe. though, in your eyes your little acts of rebellion are worth every moment of them. even if you tried, you could not sit quietly by.
the tides are changing…
the times are changing yet again, the men who occupy your home are no longer composed. you can see the terror in their eyes, and it brings you joy. they become crueler, and that fills your heart with hope– for even they know that their time would come to an end soon. there are whispers of forces liberating your country– and you hope it to be true.
c’est la vie…
you watch as horrid flags are taken down, and your own are raised once more. the city you call home is far from glory, it is in shutt and ashes. the very foundations collapsed under the turmoil of the war. and yet, everywhere you turn you see life return to empty shells. and with such a return, so does your father. but he is a changed man. he is not the sweet and tender man you remember him to be. his gaze has hardened, blue eyes turned cold as steel. you cannot find your way home to him, for his heart is shut with the despair of what he has lived.
you try so hard, but you are always met with disappointment.
you have a pale memory of that time, but why?
you are old enough to sit at the table, you are old enough for your voice to be heard. and yet, in your father’s eyes you are but a child. he pushes you aside, in his eyes you are worth nothing. and you have to wonder why is it that you are so wrong for this world? but you never learn the answer beyond never being good enough in his eyes. and so, you stop trying. instead, you follow your heart.
though the war is over, its remnants loom over your shoulders. you cannot unsee the things that have come to pass. the graveyards filled with bodies– old and young alike. the city is a ghost town, lights flickering as you walk past. when you wake in the middle of the night, covered in a layer of sweat, all you can think of is those horrid soldiers leaning back on your living room chairs, their dirty boots placed on the table. all you can remember is your mother running through the house fulfilling their every demand and you are angry. you are angry at the world for being so disappointing.
setting fire to our insides for fun, to distract our hearts from ever missing them…
*tw alcohol*
for a while, you think, it would be best to feel numb. you want to forget– you want to bury the terrors you have witnessed. but you cannot seem to forget. and so you turn to the bottle, you hope that maybe the answer lies at the bottom of your glass. but there is none to be found, instead, you watch the world go blurry. and you decide, you have seen enough– as well as far too little. you want to enjoy your life. you want to dream. you want to escape into different worlds all together.
*tw end*
art attracts us only by what it reveals of our most secret self…
your sister urges you to follow your dreams. she urges you to showcase your talents. and for a moment you believe her. you believe in yourself. regardless of what your father might think, you enroll in art school. you study the grand artists of your time, but you will never measure up to them. and once more you are met with the word you despise the most: disappointment. though you see your professor’s lips moving, you hear your father’s voice. and once more you run– you run from responsibility. but you are not willing to give up the life you love. and so, you turn elsewhere for guidance.
people leave pieces of their soul in their art…
you look to the masters for guidance, you know their work– and you can paint fairly well. you may not know yourself, but you search for pieces of yourself in their art. brush on paper, you begin to duplicate their works. after the turmoil of the war, art is lost and scattered and you abuse this. you sell your work for theirs, forgeries none the less– but good ones.
suddenly you have more money than you know what to do with. and you spend it foolishly. you spoil your mother, your sister and most importantly yourself. finally you have the means to do as you please, and so you do. you treat life as though it were a game, an illusion. you aren’t sure what is real and what is not– for you haven fallen under a spell, intoxication. but one thing remains certain: you are in for a wild ride.
— the THE FACTS !
luc was born and raised in paris, france.
his family was well off, but like many others they still struggled with the economic demise prior to ww2.
during the war, his father participated in the battle of france, but never returned home. like many others he was taken as a prisoner of war. leaving his mother to take care of luc and his little sister.
during the war, their home was occupied by german soldiers and they were forced to serve them. he hated this more than anything in the world, and acted out despite severe punishments. he was never one to sit by quietly.
during this time, his mother helped smuggle people out of the country and while luc was but a child, he aided her as best he could.
after france was liberated and his father returned home nothing would ever return to as it was in the time before. his father was a changed man from his time spent as a prisoner of war. he was cold, and distant. luc did not know how to deal with him, nor did his father know how to deal with luc.
he went on to study art and art history at university. but, there too he was met with disappointment. his professors did not agree with his style of work and eventually luc gave up and dropped out. his father, ever the more disappointed in him threatened to cut him off.
luc is a very proud young man, and so he essentially dared his father to cut him off. which the man then did. forcing luc to try and make ends meet himself.
luc was used to luxuries in his home, and he was not willing to give up such a life. so he turned to the other side of the law. he began forging famous paintings that had gone missing during the war. selling his own work as those of renowned painters. with the money he lived a lavish lifestyle.
he worked hard in this illicit career, but he partied even harder.
the young man had been dabbling in matters on the opposite side of the law, fraudulent behaviour on the verge of being uncovered. his sister had been so kind to pass him a note at breakfast, it hadn’t been signed by name though the message was threatening: ‘ we know what you are doing, it’s only a matter of time until we can link you to the crime. ‘ alas, he sought out a space, in which he could go about his work undisturbed.
checking in under a false name, jacques de villiers, the young man patted himself on the shoulder in the belief that this would solve all his problems. he would be able to use his hotel room to forge artwork, all evidence placed in the hands of the hotel, whereas at his home there would be none to be found when the police came knocking.
— the RAVEN HOUSE !
the year was 1955.
the young man decided to check into a hotel, tucked away in the heart of paris. it was far from modest, but truth be told he wouldn’t settle for less. luc had always been drawn to the luxurious aspects of life: a glass of champagne in the morning, silken sheets hugging his body, and leaning out the window to smoke his first cigarette of the day with a perfect view of champ de mars.
perhaps he had indulged in too many pleasures the night before, for when he pushed the door to his room open he was greeted by an entirely different interior. it was beautiful nonetheless, crystal chandeliers and ornate decorations. and yet, something was off. he caught glances of people passing by, each dressed in a manner he could not recognize to belong to his time. with a smile plastered on his lips, the young man left to discover the place he found himself in only to become aware of the fact that he now resided in the raven house.
— the PERSONALITY !
his unpredictability made him a menace to society, or better said the social circles his family operated in. he was everything but poised and calm, he had a certain spark in his eyes: the desire to live life to its fullest. luc was charming at his root, equipped with honey lips and a serpent’s tongue. though he didn’t necessarily say the right thing at the right time, he had a way of getting away with it. perhaps it was his sociability, or the way he would make the person he was speaking with feel as though they were the only one in the world. that was until his attention drifted elsewhere, which it always did. ever with a drink or cigarette in hand, he was the life of the party, one debacle after the other– a sight to behold, but never to own. he came and went as he pleased, making himself at home in any environment that he deemed acceptable. in his core, he is an extrovert– though a rather chaotic one.
— the HEADCANONS !
001. his most treasured item: it was a gift from father to son, the one object he owns that symbolizes his father’s acceptance. gifted to him upon his birthday, it came with the words, “now you are a man.” it was the only moment his father seemed to stand eye to eye with luc, as though they were equals. but this is not why the object means so much to him, no– he couldn’t care less about that man. he holds it dear for the words so delicately scratched onto the bottom by his sister, “l’artiste est semblable au prince des nuées “ (the artist is alike the prince of the clouds). the object is none other than a silver lighter with his initials engraved onto the center of it, always found in the comfort of his pocket.
002. when luc first entered the raven house he was content simply enjoying every day that passed without responsibility. however, when it dawned on him that he would never be able to see his family or friends again he became obsessed with remembering their likeness. he tried his best to draw images of those close to his heart, but with each day that passed he came to realize that those memories were lost. there are a vast amount of ripped up images, or unfinished pictures scattered around his room that he furiously scribbled over in frustration. for he was only ever able to draw one person from his past life: his father. the look of disappointment ingrained in his mind for all of time to come. though, the worst part of it all was that he couldn’t manage to create a single image of his sister, who he was really close to. he felt so guilty that he could not remember the details of her features beyond the green eyes they shared– and even then he was unsure if he remembered her eyes or if he was simply drawing his own.
003. after his mysterious disappearance, the note was discovered by his family. his story quickly became a rather large investigation, but as no trace of him was found his family grew impatient with the investigation and offered up a rather large reward for any news on their lost son. the case found the tabloids, the newspapers, and general gossip quite quickly. his story influenced the character « charles bonnet » in the movie “how to steal a million” years later.
004. when luc first entered the raven house he was only able to speak french, but one of the other guests was so kind as to teach him english. he still struggles with the pronunciation of words to this day, but he tries his best. it doesn’t exactly bother him either that his mothertongue often slips through when speaking in this foreign tongue, for he never cared much to perfect this skill-- he only wanted to be able to communicate. (this could be a possible plot ??? one of the other guests that teaches him english !!! )