( alan ritchson, closeted gay, cismale + he/him, fighter ) «—◦—→ well met, DUKE KEARNEY! the divine born child of ARES. your name sings in our ears! it’s been 40 years and now they have answered the song in their veins. before they answered the song, they were a UFC FIGHTER & UPCOMING ACTION STAR and were living in LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA. history and myth will remember them for their DEVOTION, LOYALTY, DETERMINATION but will also magnify their SHORT FUSE, PARANOIA, GUARDED NATURE. if it causes them to falter. now it is time for the world to sing their name with them.
Duke is the firstborn son, born into a military family, to parents who were all but forced to wed when his mother became pregnant. His home life was hectic from the very start, his father was a traumatized, angry man who unleashed his pent up rage at home. On the outside everything seemed perfect, it had to, otherwise his father's reputation would be at stake.
His mother retreated into herself, and that only got worse by the time his younger sister came into the picture. He was around eight when she was born, but he felt much older than his years. He'd already witnessed countless fights between his parents, and violence enacted against his mother. The birth of his younger sister lit a fire under him, and he began to intervene, facing against his father, often to his own detriment. Duke didn't want his mother or his sister to suffer his father's pain and resentment.
Thanks to the patriarch's career in the military, the Kearney's were never in one place for long, always moving to other states, and at times other countries. This didn't just make it so Duke developed a particular accent (mostly southern thanks to his parents) but it also set the stage for his sister to become his closest friend despite their gap in age. Duke would truly do anything for her.
When Duke was 14, and they were living in Germany, his mother fled, never to look back. He knew his mother deserved better, and always wanted that for her, but it still hurt to be left behind, left with his monster of a father; especially since his sister was still so young.
From then on he knew he had to flee as soon as he could, and create a better, safer, more stable life for his sister. He focused all of his energy into his athletic pursuits, something that always came naturally to him, knowing that would be his ticket to a better life.
Once he came of age, he left his father's home in secret with some money he had managed to save up, and took his little sister with him. Duke was determined to raise her on his own, away from his father, and threatened him if he ever decided to come looking for them. Their father didn't care much by that point, already having retired and sinking deeper into his alcoholism.
He hit the road until he got to Los Angeles and worked from the ground up to become a UFC fighter. He worked at gyms doing anything he could, and fighting in any ring that would take him to build a name for himself. It was an arduous journey but he managed it, building a good career for himself.
There were times where he had to sacrifice moving up in his career to care for his sister, but it was worth it to him. His sister eventually went on to go to one of the top medical schools in the country, and once she was living her life on her own, he went full force into his pursuits in the UFC.
With his name carrying more weight in the scene, also came notoriety, ghosts of his past coming out in his short fuse and penchant to blow up. The outlet for his rage was no longer enough, and he frequently got into spats outside of the ring, ending up in some arrests.
Despite this, he is still known for his martial arts prowess, and had started making a name for himself in Hollywood, getting cast as supporting characters in a few action flicks. This has come with mixed reactions from the public, who can acknowledge his talents, but generally dislike how hot tempered Duke is. Duke plays into this, and enjoys taunting those that have less than favorable opinions of him.
Learning of his godly parentage has stoked the flames of his ego, to an extent, and piqued his curiosity. Duke never does anything halfway, and his competitive nature is sure to come out. He still wants to continue to pursue his career in Hollywood, so he will have to learn how to manage the two, if he even can. All he knows is that he was always too good to ever be his father's son, so he feels vindicated, even if he isn't exactly in the market for a new father figure.
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He needed the chance to breathe for a bit. The first step toward some positive changes had to be changing up the habits that typically kept him... Far away from actual progress with that. Hiding away in the kitchens, stifling his feels by working through recipes and avoiding actually feeling them wouldn't help this time. Or, at least, that was how he was deciding to run with it. Instead, he'd headed to the training area, worked out some of the pent up tension that had been building beneath the surface. He mostly attributed that to new powers to try and work with, and afterward?
Took the opportunity to crash in one of the open air baths offered at the bath house while it was still relatively early in the day. Slow breathes taken, head settled back against the edge as he just... Breathed. Gustave needed to change. Find his feet more than he had.
"Wasn't expecting anybody else to be up this early." An easy comment offered to the padding footsteps he could hear heading in his direction.
one of duke's favorite parts of working out, or training now, is hitting the sauna or the baths afterward, relaxing his muscles and sweating everything out. it's one of the few things that allows him to feel as close to zen as he can muster, the comforting heat easing his temperamental nature.
one of the downsides however, is having to keep his wandering eye in check. duke is always so paranoid that people will put two and two together and ruin his career. not that his career is in the best standing currently, what with the losses, and his general poor reputation online. still, he would rather not have his sexuality blasted all over the internet and have that be another reason his hard work is discredited. he's worked hard his whole life to get where he is, and he's not going to let anything ruin that.
not even a strikingly handsome man.
he has a towel wrapped low around his waist, a smaller modesty towel in his hand as he pitter patters slowly to the open air bath, ready to sink into that incredible warmth and forget about the world for a bit.
his steps halt when he sees one of the other demigods already there despite his efforts to arrive early enough that it would be empty. great.
duke flushes, his eyes widening momentarily, and then looks away, somewhere on the surface of the water.
he grunts in response to gus' statement, rolling his eyes, then says, “early bird gets the worm.” early bird gets the hot baths to himself so he doesn't have to worry about popping wood, more like, but that's neither here nor there.
he contemplates going back and forgetting about the hot bath, but his muscles could use it. so he shrugs and drops his towel, placing the smaller one over his junk with his hand as he sinks into the water with a contented sigh. “that's the freaking stuff,” he breathes out, shutting his eyes.
to say he didn't notice how the eyes lingered on him would be a lie. nor ws the look on duke's face. bear grins, a hand running up his chest a bit before it curls behind his neck as he stands there. if he flexes a bit, so be it. he'll give a show. “what dude, didn't expect me to be built or what?” he tries to ease the tension in the air, make a joke, make duke comfortable. the man looks like he's ready to bolt.
he follows him into the living room and sits beside him. there's enough space for it not to be awkward, but definitely not enough for two dudes when one is supposed to be straight. he's not gonna push it, though. he adjust himself in his sweats, an obvious gesture. he has his own beer on the table in front of the sofas. he picks up up, offers it to clink against duke's.
“nah, haven't hosted any parties. just a person here and there. the parties are usually at other cabins or out front and every goes their separate ways from what i've seen.” he shrugs his shoulders and then tosses the remote to duke. “you wanna find something to watch or you wanna just turn on music and shoot the shit?” his eyes linger over duke's form now, over the boulders of his shoulders, the hard muscle, the tattoos. “you look like you're ready to bust.” he laughs, nodding his head toward duke. “your tank top, i mean. shit's too tight on you.”
duke almost responds to the question, a flirtatious line dying right on the tip of his tongue. he closes his mouth, trying to keep the attraction he's feeling at bay. at least for now. it's probably too soon to just jump into things. duke isn't the best at navigating these things, it's one of the few things that strike fear into him.
his eyes widen for a split second once they're settled on the couch, close enough that he can feel bear's warmth without directly touching him, and sees just how casually bear adjusts himself. duke schools his features into something more placid as he clinks his bottle against bear's, not wanting to let on just how much he wants him. he takes a swig of his beer, almost downing it, and wipes his lips with the back of his hand.
thoughts of where the night could go, and if this whole thing is a bad idea swirl in his head enough for him to not hear what bear is saying until he's asking him another question.
duke's eyebrows go up, and he shrugs, “uh-some music is good.” he clears his throat, leaning back. “i mean, everything on streaming is shit nowadays. might as well just shoot the shit.”
he can feel bear's gaze linger on him, and duke almost preens under it. the doubts he was having start to melt away, leaving behind only the warmth of mutual attraction, the thrill of anticipation. now, he just has to find way to push things along without being too obvious about it.
the laugh comes easily, but duke pushes it a bit, shaking his head. “you saying i don't know how to dress myself? what the hell?”
then he yanks off the tank, and throws it off to the side. duke looks down proudly at his chest and flexes his pecs, making them dance before turning to bear with a lopsided grin. “i look better with less clothes on anyway. try not to drool too much now that you're seeing me in person.” he smacks bear on the shoulder playfully with a laugh.
when bear saw ufc champion duke kearney at camp, he thought it was a fluke, a figment of his imagination since he'd just watched his fight after missing it. now, the very same dude is coming over to hang out, drink some beers, and chill. funny how that works. even funnier that duke's trying to pass off as straight. bear won't say anything about it, though. not his business to spill, all he can do is not be a fan boy and treat duke like one of the boys.
so that's what he'll do.
he's in his living area, all comfortable sofas and a big ass tv to watch shows on. modern and industrial, but oddly cozy. it fits him. he enjoys it. when he hears the door open, he calls out, “yo, duke, man! in here!” he stands up, walking to the threshold of the living room, dressed in just a pair of grey sweatpants and nothing else. “those need to get chilled? can grab a cooler so we don't have to get up so much.” he laughs after, smirking at the other demigod.
should he be doing this? going to hang out with a guy who's seen his nudes and enjoyed them, a guy who revealed his dick is bigger than his? no, probably not. especially since said guy is a fan. duke is so pent up though, he's tense, frustrated on many levels.
he really hopes he isn't getting himself into a messy situation like when he used to troll grindr for quick and easy hook ups. duke learned to abandon that once his name gained enough notoriety.
but he needs something to ground him, bring him back to his body, on solid ground. getting fucked usually does the trick. he just has to figure out how to get to that point once he's face to face with bear. he isn't great at this, or asking for things in general.
he'll have to suck it up. the thought makes him chuckle, six pack in hand, as he enters bear's place. duke hadn't bothered to change, still clad in some basketball shorts and an old tank, his arms and chest on full display, as well as the tattoos coloring his skin. why bother? hopefully he won't be dressed for long.
he hears bear call out to him, and walks toward the sound of his voice, heart beating loudly in his chest. why is he nervous? he looks over his shoulder toward the entrance and then back again.
duke clenches his jaw and continues on, his mouth almost falling open when he sees what bear is wearing. his eyes can't help but to trace his form, taking him in, and the very visible bulge in his sweatpants. his mouth waters a little.
he realizes he's supposed to say something and straightens up, holding up the case. “nah, they're nice and cold. should hold up just fine.”
he moves to sit down on one of the couches nearby, throwing his heft back with a sigh, getting comfortable. he sets the six pack down by his feet, and nods toward the television. “nice set up you got here, man. you host watch parties often?”
the past few weeks have been...a whirlwind. duke had been pulled away from this new world at camp, and placed right back in the ring. duke's long string of rivalries is no hidden secret, he's notorious for a reason, always popping off at the mouth. macho bravado and cocky swagger tends to rub people the wrong way.
one of those rivalries culminated in a highly promoted UFC match.
he'd been talking shit about one of the fighters who was previously a prolific pro wrestler. duke had said he wasn't an actual fighter and how he'd sweep the floor with him, only to be handed his own ass on a platter. in front of the world. after that came another loss that's made it so duke has come back to camp, not currently taking any bookings, with his tail tucked between his legs.
or as much as it can be at least.
he's sat at one of the tables of a party for the newlyweds, boots propped up, crossed comfortably. his demeanor contrasts the doubts creeping in, the bits of shame he doesn't ever allow himself to look too deeply at. that's all a waste of time.
he just doesn't understand why he wasn't as strong outside of this place...like he was half a man.
he grunts, placing his feet firmly on the ground, and turns to the person next to him, nodding his head at them, “so, what the hell happened again? i heard something about the goddess of forgetting messing with memories? that crap better not happen to me, there are things i'd rather forget but i like my memories.”
he's more talkative than usual. “anyway…it's nice to see a warrior get his big wedding. maybe there's hope for the rest of us.”
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He adjusted the bag that had been slung around his shoulder and frowned. While he wasn't exactly expecting everyone to be sweet or even polite to him, he definitely hadn't prepared for the hostility. "Kid?" was all he responded with, giving the blond a once over. The guy looked like he was barely in his 40s. Using a hand to waft the smoke out of his face, he took a step back. "I haven't been called that in a minute." Truth be told he wasn't sure if the guy was trying to be condescending or just flippant, but it put Sebastian on the back foot straight away.
Hearing that he wasn't the only new person at camp was definitely a relief. Hermes told him the camp had been open for a month or so, that there were already demigods there, going on missions. He was afraid he'd be the dead weight trying to catch up. It looked like he wasn't going to be the only one. "So are you lost too? Or are you just out here for a secret smoke bbreak?" he asked, still deciding to be civil.
gods, he's really not in the mood for whatever this is. duke just wanted to smoke in peace, let off some steam. it seems the fates have other things in mind. great.
he rolls his eyes, waving off the guy's comment. anyone who's younger than duke gets called kid. he isn't sure where he picked that up, probably from all the coaches, managers, and other figures of authority who spoke that way to him. he frowns, flicking some ash down on the ground.
“do i look lost to you?” he asks, eyeing him up and down, before taking a drag of the cigarette and blowing out a ring of smoke. “and i don't have to smoke in secret, i do whatever the fuck i want.”
he sighs, flicking more ash away, “who's your parent? godly, i mean.”
Truth be told, Bash was still convinced he was in a dream. As he sauntered down the path of the forest in the middle of nowhere, it started to don on him again that this was all just crazy. He'd always known he was adopted, and sure he occasionally wondered who his birth parents were, but never in his wildest dreams would he have thought he was the son of a goddess.
Now here he was, wandering the woods alone, a bag slung over his shoulder with as much clothes as he could grab. He rubbed at the back of his head as he took in the area, realizing now that not only was he still a little fuzzy on the details about his bloodline and what it meant for him, but he was also completely lost. The least Hermes could have done was drop him off in front of his cabin. He pulled out his phone as he walked. All else fails, Siri will have the answers right? Nope. Of course a mythical camp with nymphs and goat people wouldn't show up on google maps.
"The fuck am I doing..." he muttered to himself, shuffling through some bushes. Dark bornw eyes lit up instantly when he saw someone standing by a tree. "Thank god..." he breathed, heading over to the figure. "Excuse me... ah, sorry to interrupt whatever you're doing but do you mind point me in the direction of Nike's cabin?" He blinked, realizing how bizarr that would sound if this was the wrong person. "Or the camp in general. I think I got turned around or something... and google maps in on the fritz apparently."
duke is smoking a much needed cigarette, propped up against a tree, his jaw tense as he angrily mutters to himself. smoking is a habit he's not entirely proud of, one he's tried to kick, but inevitably find his way back to. it helps calm his nerves whenever he gets too worked up. tonight he'd spent a good portion of time looking at what people were saying about him on twitter, and then got into a spat with some of them.
sure, he's an asshole, but he's not a bad guy. people just test his patience.
he blows out some smoke, when he hears someone talk to him, making him turn to them.
he's in a mood, so he scowls, blowing out a puff of air. “what the fuck do i look like? some kind of guide? you think i work here or something? i'm new here too, kid.”
When he woke up, Arthur found a letter on his door. Recognizing Merrick's handwriting right away, he expected it to be something about another hike later that day or something but then he read the message and he could feel his heart sink into his stomach. Merrick was leaving camp and going back to London, Arthur didn't need to read further. Crumpling the note in his hand, he shut the door and slumped back into his bedroom.
His mind was too awake now, he had a million thoughts but he didn't want think. Not right now. Instead of focusing on one of his books, Arthur figured a run would be better for him right now. Luckily Ez wasn't there to question him, so he didn't have to explain himself.
He must have been running for an hour undisturbed, Artie seemed to have the entire forest to himself. His mind was focused on the trees in front of him, and then he was finally found. Nearly running into them, Arthur stopped himself and slid over before falling into some mud. "Oh, sorry about that." even if he was the one who fell.
one of the first things duke does is go for a run to get his blood pumping before he hits the weights, and as of late, trains with his arrows. he refuses to do this half assed, if he's going to be a demigod warrior, then he's going to be the best he can be, the best at camp. possibly even the best they've ever seen. the stuff of legends, and poems. yea. his ears are filled with the sounds of rock music as he begins a quick pace through the forest.
the run goes as planned until he almost comes face to face with someone, nearly knocking into them. he swerves a little, and catches himself before he slips. the disturbance makes him scowl, ripping one of his earbuds out as he looks down at the offender currently down in the mud.
“watch where the fuck you're going, man. jesus.”
he breathes out his nose, and offers a hand to him to help him up, not really wanting to fight someone so soon during his stay at this camp.
“you're gonna need at least two showers to get all that shit off.”
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somehow, hughie had fallen asleep in the hot springs. head resting against the stony rim of a bath, hair damp from steam, the son of artemis all but snored lightly as he soaked in the warm waters that lapped at his bare, barrel-thick body. but in his slumber, changes had occurred to the other's skin. peeking from his shoulder-pads were ridges of hardened, emerald-green skin that resembled that of a crocodile's, scales that had unknowingly manifested as the water held him in its warmth.
but at the slightest movement nearby, hughie awoke with a jolt. lunging from the waters, rivulets of it cascading down his naked body, chartreuse-green eyes glowered at the intruder before he blinked – and the eyes were a pair of browns again, all of their previous aggression vanished. “sorry, mate,” hughie laughed. “think i was having a bit of a bad dream.”
he's looking for some relief, warm water to soothe his aching muscles after extensive training. duke has never been one to slow down, and now that he's more powerful than ever before it's less likely to happen. the thrill of reaching new levels of strength is unlike anything he's ever felt before.
his plans for relaxation come to a screeching halt, however, when he sees someone else is in the hot springs. a very attractive man, fully on display, without a care in the world. duke is distracted by the strong planes of his body, heat rising on his face, and fogging up his glasses more than the steam in the air.
he's distracted enough that he doesn't notice the scales on the man's shoulders right away, but when his eyes do meet them, he startles. the slight jump seems to startle the man awake, and then even more of his naked form is revealed, and duke has to look away quickly. he is not going to get caught staring.
he frowns, trying to think of anything to not react physically, given his own state of undress. his briefs will not hide anything if he were to pop a boner at this moment.
“uh-” duke begins, and clears his throat, regaining his composure, his shoulders squaring resolutely. “it's fine, man. 'm just not used to seeing all the weird crap that happens around here with our powers yet. no offense.”
he settles into the water, and rubs the back of his neck, muscles flexing and releasing as the warmth envelops him.
after a second he faces the man, smirking at him slightly, “so, you always turn into a croc when you hit the water?”
sleep was a friend he hasn't spoken with recently. his nights have been longer, pouring himself into his training both physical and intellectual, until the early hours of the morning when dawn crested over the horizon. it was, in part, a distraction. it was, in another part, avoidance. after a restless night spent tossing and turning, he's pulled himself from the hecate cabin to grab some coffee and breakfast.
he's got his coffee—as blonde as ever with cream and a stick of cinnamon inside—and a croissant, flakey and warm, freshly out of the oven. he's sitting at a table alone, a book propped up with another book. honeyed eyes flick along the pages as he sips away at his coffee. when he looks up, he sees some of the other demigods inside and gives them a smile, pull optimism engaged. "no one is sitting across from me if you need a place to sit." he pushes the chair out with his foot for emphasis. "the croissants are delicious today. you should get one."
duke is awake, bright and early, as he usually is. he's got a strictly regimented schedule to follow, it's how he keeps in top shape. sure, he's not really booking any fights at the moment, but he still needs to make sure he's on top of things for when he does. because he is going back...this is a momentary detour. yea.
he waltzes into the dining hall, mentally going over his macros when he notices merrick. he grins at him as he approaches, grabbing the back of the chair merrick pushed out for him.
"i can get my own chair, buddy," he says with a wink, looking over his shoulders, not wanting anyone to get the wrong idea. he has enough on his plate with public opinion.
he sits down with a huff, settling his large frame on the seat, and leaning forward. duke's gaze goes over to where the food is displayed. "you think we need to up our macros to account for the whole superpower thing? i should probably get a few of those croissants."
"While I'd love to try and pretend that none of this was me, uh..."
This being the litany of training weapons scattered around the area, in various states of use. One half embedded in the ground, a blunted tip, a wooden sword that had clearly been swung with more force than initially expected given the snapped off end. There was at least some method to the madness, in David's eyes if nobody else's, given the weapons had certainly seemed to be in better condition the further the path went.
"Was try to figure out what felt good, y'know?"
Currently, he had the heft of a great sword resting on his shoulder, something that he at least felt like a badass swinging around while still trying to really get a feel for all things stepping up to demigodhood had gotten him.
Maybe he should temper the competitive instinct in him, not allow that fire to burn so freely, but he's the son of Ares. Restraint isn't something in his wheelhouse.
Duke puffs up his chest, making his 6'5" that much more apparent, looking on at the mess of weapons strewn about. He quirks an eyebrow, silently looking on at everything before his gaze settles on the other man.
"Felt good?" He asks, frowning slightly. "That's a weird way to put it, but sure!"
He crosses his arms, smiling slightly, "I decided on the crossbow, not because it felt good, but because it looks bad ass, and I'm pretty sure it's pretty fucking lethal too. Not that I need weapons. Still mostly getting used to training with 'em."
Duke takes the goblet of ambrosia in hand and stares down into it, as if it’ll hold the answers within the swirls at its surface. He raises it in a toast to his father, his godly father, and downs it after shrugging his shoulders. Might as well see what’s waiting for him on the other side of whatever this thing is.
His vision becomes clouded by red and black smoke until he’s staring ahead at a long empty road, his hands gripping the wheel of a car tightly. Not just any car, the car he had when he was a teenager. The one he’d used to get him and his sister as far away from their father as he could.
Not that there was much of a fight. Not that time.
Duke looks over at the passenger side, and just as he thought, his younger sister is sitting next to him, looking at him expectantly but with much younger eyes than the last time he saw her. She’s only about ten years old, a drastic difference to the thirty-two year old woman he knows her as.
She quirks a brow, impatience clear in her tone, “Duke? Come on, drive! You said you’d keep me safe!”
He nods, blinking rapidly through the confusion, and takes off down the road.
The next thing he knows he’s standing over his baby sister’s crib trying to get her to stop crying as his parents argue loudly in the next room.
Nothing he does makes anything better, no matter how hard he tries. The house just grows louder and louder, from all angles, until it reaches a fever pitch. Duke doesn’t know what makes him move, maybe the sound of yet another slap, or his father’s boots stomping on the ground. It doesn’t matter, he follows the echoes like he’s being guided by sonar.
He squares his shoulders, gritting his teeth, looking up at his father, a veritable Goliath looming over him in the kitchen. He doesn’t feel fear, what he feels, he now knows is a bone deep rage, all consuming. He punches at his father, who easily grabs him, and begins to retaliate. Duke tries to cover himself, but he’s not that adept at this, just like the first time it happened. All his fighting prowess proves useless in his smaller frame.
“You were never my dad, you piece of shit!” He grits it out, almost mocking his father, undeterred by the pain. Duke’s proud to take this in his mother’s place, just like he was back then.
He turns and sees himself like an out of body experience, fighting in the ring, one of his biggest fights in the UFC, and sees his dad somewhere in the audience watching him with a strange look in his eye. Duke hadn’t realized that his father was in attendance at the time, but he sees him clear as day, watching him with a kind of envy. He doesn’t stay to see him win, and he doesn’t see how drunk Duke gets afterward, and the bar fight that ensues when someone tries to prove themselves at his expense. It’s like he’s always been a magnet for that energy, he can see it so clearly, pushing the right buttons to inspire competition, and anger.
Duke will never back down from a challenge, but he knows, seeing this, that his most righteous fighting is done when he’s fighting to protect that which he cares for.
The smoke swirls and he’s back in the driver’s seat where he started, pulling out of his father’s house, a place that was never truly his home.
His little sister, Destiny, is next to him, turned back toward the house as they drive off, flipping it the bird excitedly. “Sucks to suck! We’re going to Hollywood!”
Duke laughs heartily, and slaps the wheel, he’s thrilled that his plans to get his sister out of there came to fruition. They would have a better life, one they deserve, in spite of their parents.
His sister is going to be okay. Maybe he didn’t fight hard enough for his mom, wasn’t enough to make her stay, but he would fight for his sister. And they would be okay.
“Yea, fuck that guy,” he says around a smile, as he fiddles with the radio, and his sister settles into her seat staring ahead at the long road in front of them. “We’re going to be living the life, I promise. No more shitty dads. He can rot.”
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hands on his bare hips, luka looked over the 'strange' dirt he's pulled up from beside yet another cabin. it's overgrown through, held together in chunks larger than clumps, with thin threads that he could only wonder about. and even as he'd ripped it up, these hunks of loosely bound soil almost felt...
alive.
he was so focused, so honed in, his attention so drawn, that when someone would brush by or greet him? he'd launch into the air and let out an entirely unmanly shriek. only to land, puff his chest up, and play it off. "--yeah? what is it?" said, voice forced a little too deep. but then, more naturally, "wasn't too loud, was I?" a beat. "with the digging around." not the other thing, that totally didn't happen.
duke is trying to settle in (a hard task for a man who never truly lets his guard down), he really is, but everything is so bizarre. he almost feels like this might be some elaborate prank being carried out on him by one of the many people who dislike him. no. he shakes his head at the thought, chuckling at himself. that would be insane.
he's rounding the corner by one of the cabins when a shrill sound makes him jump, and look over his shoulder and around, trying to spot the source. when he spots what caused it duke rolls his eyes, his arms across his wide chest, his mouth forming into a thin line.
"you nearly scared me to death," he breathes out, "i mean- not because i'm scared of you, but that sound was so high pitched. how did you even do that?" duke shakes his head, a smile quirking at the corner of his lips. "and what the hell are you doing anyway? scary gardening?"