#melicra

sweet young mind never could understand the adults . like why her mother would smack him with a muttering of fierce words and an even fiercer glare , a dangerous situation for any who crossed or annoyed her . sometimes julia listened , picking up the words spoken under breath to avoid being detected .

it is just the two of them. & for him, omega forgoes his glamour. void of his mask, with the entirely of his ghoulish form on display. but it's comfortable. natural, in this light. yet -- he acts no different. cants his head in response, before blowing a simple exhale through his nostrils in pleased curiosity. hands tucked expectantly behind his back, before they swing openly to his side. "of course, luca." it's a typical request. one he enjoys, to say the least. for he'd simply turned to face terzo when he'd fluttered into the room -- & omega had to fight to keep himself stoic ever since. bending only at the waist to grip a lithe one in turn, before hoisting the anti-pope into his arms. a hand reaching under him, to support his weight. "would you like me to hold you some other way, or is this fine?" he asks. opposite hand reaching up in order to tuck long, fallen hair behind his ears. standing straight, & tall. "i just want you happy."

‘   mistletoe   ’   +   with   urgency  +  ft CC   |  music inspo.  |  @melicra

Cold crept, burgeoning like tendrils of parasitic life. Sheets of frost coated the windows, gnawed at the color from his cheeks and overburdened everything within its path. It stalled traffic with condensed snow. Swept the streets of bustling bodies as they were too frail to endure the bites of glacier teeth. 

It hunted for heat like a leech sought blood. It sought to burrow into their arm and drain them dry till skin stretched and jagged slits gaped with the strain, offering a window into the livid and the pulsing red beneath. Cold was a parasite and death was just the same. Fucking persistent and unbiased. No strict agenda with whom it took or when. 

Such a funereal address for man who more often than not brimmed with esprit and raging perseverance.

 In between the dark clouds of innate tragedy gliding over a legion of trees, winks of light filtered, gazing upon the lost and determined below. A silver lining. In bouts of coincidences that almost seemed preordained⎯⎯⎯Omega returned to the forest staunched with death for remnants of his lost memory and in some fucked up irony, from the soil birthed his King. Literally. 

 Between sputters and coughs, he bore witnessed the Third’s struggle to cope with the onslaught of an inherited second chance and his eyes burned with the weight of five years returning to the forefront of his mind. Five years of unfair fucking horse shit and a loathsome, writhing fucking possessive rat he wanted to shred.  

He hated The Cardinal, the harbinger of a new era. A transgressive era of change for the vulnerable and impressionable minds. Omega had seen behind the facade, the gnarled, putrid creature beneath his disguised. He wasn’t fooled⎯⎯⎯but everyone else was. 

And it was within this melting pot of thoughts and the peeks of gold and green and red that adorned the lobby of hotel they stopped in for the night and the mistletoe innocently suspended overhead, that he recognized⎯⎯⎯it had been five years since he last kissed him. Five agonizing fucking years since he last felt the warmth of his body flushed against his. Five fucking years flooded with intimate memories and a cold bed. 

 this was the last straw. the ghouls had done things like this before. broken his glasses, stole his food, tackled him down the stairs and locked him in the chapel. he was done being nice, and he was done being passive. 

 he stomped down the carpeted halls in just a towel around his waist, water drops clung to his skin and his hair was plastered to his forehead but slightly ruffled. ‘those bastards stole my fucking clothes, and I'm done’ he thought to himself as he huffed and puffed through the corridors.

 he approached the big oak doors to the chambers of youngest brother of the Emeritus line. his fist makes loud bangs against it as he shouts 

“EMERITUS, I NEED A WORD WITH YOU!” he rages. he was done being treated poorly.