#solistis

send me ❤ and I will bold all that applies to your muse.

    Lucian was silent- anything he could even try to say was easily taken from him, feeling like he had been kicked in the chest, for lack of a better comparison- the wind pulled straight out of his lungs by those words. He shouldn’t have allowed himself to get close to someone again, he knew it would end up like this. It always ended up like this. It would always end up like this.

    Was whatever deity above punishing him? After all, he had committed his fair share of sins. Perhaps he deserved this. Yes, he deserved it, there was no way it wasn’t true. After all, these things happened for a reason. Perhaps the indescribable, burning, stabbing loathing in his chest was shared by all else he knew. Lucian was a fool for expecting anything else. For expecting something good to happen to him. For expecting love, and cherished memories, and forgiveness. He was always a fool.

    The swordsman had nothing to say. What was there to say in the first place? It was true, he had cut down a lifelong friend without mercy, without expected consequence. How many other deaths had been his fault? How many of the losses he claimed he didn’t care about were truly because of him?

    He loosened his grip on Vanargand, and allowed it to drop to the ground. Then he came down to his knees.

    His eye definitely wasn’t a favorite topic, no, it was one he instead chose to avoid. It wasn’t a big deal (considering he was used to it,) and most of all, it was none of Aaron’s business. 

    That’s what he said the first couple times he was prompted, at least. Then he would shoot back a retort about Aaron’s hair, then simply hearing about it would make him flinch. If he didn’t say a word, he hoped the gunslinger would finally take the hint that Lucian didn’t want to talk about it, and would always refuse to talk about it, no matter how much they begged.

    Though Ernest had asked, that too was given a vague answer- all the swordsman could make himself say was no, it didn’t hurt, he could still see through it, he wasn’t half blind. Was it too much to need a little privacy? Was it too much to simply not want to think about something that hurt him so much? Childish curiosity was different from an intention to hurt, and Lucian was no stranger to their relentless questions, but that didn’t mean his discomfort was any lessened.

    Nero was the only one who knew the truth about it. The only one save for the man who caused it, of course.

    Lucian was an incredibly light sleeper. Being a vampire hunter did that to you. After all, such a creature wasn’t polite enough to wait for you to wake up. With that and nightmares on his side, he stirred ever so slightly at the faint sound of footsteps, yet remaining still and eyes lidded.

     The only people who should be in this household are Sheridan, Carmilla, and Aaron. One of them he figured was too nervous around him to enter, one probably didn’t feel the need to step quietly, which left one culprit.

    Needless to say, his suspicions were soon confirmed with one easy movement. The swordsman sat up and rubbed his uncovered eye with a sigh.