#lichthey

Slipping on and off the Astral Express wasn't unusual for Clear. Though it was a rare occurrence between his preoccupation as a collaborator with the Lord of Silence and work as a Doctor of Chaos, however much he deviated. Yet, among the Nameless, there was a new mind among the headcount, their memories gradually ingrained with the tapestry formed within the Express.

(   sms   :   eiji!   ) HUH did you try to make them look as vague as possible or did you hype them up b/c ur only asking me if its one of the two... i'll do it no matter the answer but i NEED to know

🔧 @lichthey

Baldur's Banter! || Accepting!! || @lichthey

The witch stirred her latte idly, the spoon clinking softly against the sides of the mug as she watched Spencer eye their plate with something between suspicion and resignation. They were staring down a vegan breakfast muffin—a dense, overbaked brick of oats and questionable dried fruit—like it had personally insulted them. She bit her lip, trying not to laugh as they poked at it experimentally. It didn’t budge. “You know, you don’t have to eat it,” The witch said gently, setting her spoon down and leaning on her hand. Her emerald eyes sparkled with a mix of amusement and sympathy. “Nobody’s forcing you. I could grab you something else. Like… oatmeal? Or a smoothie?”

Gabriella couldn’t hold back her grin any longer. “Seriously, though, you’re braver than me. I mean, just look at that thing! It’s, like, one step away from being a weapon. I wouldn’t blame you if you gave up on it entirely.” They didn’t respond right away, their icy blue gaze fixed on the muffin like they were weighing the pros and cons of their choices. Then, out of nowhere, they deadpanned with the words that followed. She froze for a moment, completely caught off guard. The words hung in the air, absurd and unexpected, before a surprised laugh burst out of her. “What?” she managed, her cheeks already aching from smiling too hard. “A brick?”

She tried to compose herself, but the image of Spencer taking a dramatic bite of the muffin and keeling over was too much. Her laughter bubbled out again, softer this time, as she shook her head at them. “Okay, first of all, I am not certified to handle that kind of emergency,” she teased, “Second of all, if that thing takes you down, I think it’s safe to say I’m not catching you. I’d probably be laughing too hard to even try.” She reached for her latte, hiding a playful smile behind the rim of the mug. “Honestly, though, why didn’t you just get toast or something? Toast isn’t dangerous. Toast doesn’t fight back.”

The witch shook her head again, glancing at them with mock seriousness. “Just… promise me you won’t actually try to eat it if you think it’s gonna kill you, okay? I don’t need to be a witness to that level of chaos this early in the day.” Despite her teasing, there was a warmth in her voice, her earlier nerves melting away. Spencer always had a knack for saying the most ridiculous things, and somehow, it always made her forget whatever weight she’d been carrying.

Ill & Injured! || Accepting!! || @lichthey

Gabriella sat at the edge of the park bench, her shoulders hunched against the biting chill of the night air. She clutched her coat tighter around her, though the trembling in her hands wasn’t from the cold. It had been hours—maybe longer—since she’d last eaten, or slept, or let herself rest in any meaningful way. The weight in her chest pressed harder with every passing moment, a suffocating mix of exhaustion and that gnawing, hollow ache she couldn’t quite name. Her sight was frayed at the edges, like static bleeding into her vision. Everything shimmered faintly—auras, shadows, even the glow of the streetlamp overhead—but it was overwhelming, too much for her already-fried nerves.

She’d pushed herself too far again. She always did. The cup of coffee in her hand had gone cold, untouched except for the faint crescent moon of her lip print on the rim. Her other hand rested limply on her knee, streaked with faint cuts and bruises from earlier—a nasty tumble down some stone stairs during one of her usual late-night "walks" to clear her head. But it hadn’t helped. Nothing had. Her eyes burned from the tears she hadn’t let fall, and the faint flicker of her eldritch-green irises in the reflection of the coffee’s surface reminded her of the thing she was trying to ignore: herself.

The witch blinked hard, shaking her head as if she could physically rid herself of the rising weight in her mind. “I’m fine,” she whispered, more to herself than anyone else. The words rang hollow, even to her.

She knew she wasn’t. Her head felt like it was stuffed with fog, and the usual hum in her chest—the shard of something vast and unknowable that had kept her alive through countless deaths—felt louder tonight, more insistent. The pulse of it sent a chill through her bones, and she shivered, her teeth chattering faintly. Her gaze drifted down to her hands again. They were shaking worse now, the tremor barely contained as she tried to tighten her grip on the coffee cup. Her scarf slipped loose from her neck, revealing the pale scar circling it, but she didn’t bother fixing it. What was the point?

Gabriella let out a sharp breath, frustration bubbling up alongside the exhaustion. “I’m fine,” she muttered again, though the tremble in her voice betrayed her. Her words broke the silence like a stone dropped in still water, rippling outward but resolving nothing. She didn’t know how much longer she could keep pretending.

@lichthey | continued from here.

𝙉𝙊 𝙈𝘼𝙏𝙏𝙀𝙍 𝙃𝙊𝙒 𝙃𝘼𝙍𝘿 𝙃𝙀 𝙏𝙍𝙄𝙀𝙎 𝙏𝙊 𝙒𝙄𝙇𝙇 𝙄𝙏, 𝙃𝙀 𝙒𝙊𝙉'𝙏 𝙎𝙏𝙊𝙋 𝙎𝙃𝘼𝙆𝙄𝙉𝙂. yellow eyes that had seemed so feral just moments ago are filled with fear now as they stare at his friend. their only friend. the only person on the planet who cared if they lived or died, who visited him even when they didn't have to. he had almost hurt them. the demon's mind is racing as they grapple with this fact. if spencer never wanted to see them again he would understand. the inability to control himself in this form is one of the many reasons he had imprisoned himself in this church. over the years it had slowly become his tomb, a coffin. the place he had found family and the place he would probably die one day . . . if he could die.

the pain shooting up his back comes as a surprise and causes the creature to yelp in response. lifting his gaze to spencer as they . . . reassure him. felix remembers that. he hadn't been scared of spencer in that moment . . . moreso concerned than anything else. everyone in town knows the tale of the demon in the abandoned church. it's not everyday someone shows up in his home. still fearless as ever spencer is in front of him without any hesitation. his shaking slows and felix for the first time since he woke up that day feels like he can take a full and deep breath.

❛ i almost hurt you . . . ❜ he whispers as arms curl around his knees to bring them to his chest. his tail curls around his form, the furry tip flickering anxiously. ❛ . . . since i became like this i have a hard time controlling myself in this form. ❜ what this is he isn't even sure. elongated fangs pinch his bottom lip. they're far too big for his mouth and uncomfortable. a silent tear falls down grey skin and felix is quick to use the back of his hand to wipe it away.

+1 COMPLIMENT