#tw strangling

He becomes so numb when hes in it he reacts like this whenever Jax would do it (again)

What a strange way to show affection

Anyway, thinking of him reliving the first time he was taken to the operating table, how he still had the energy to fight tooth and nail, the first time he had one of Zara's goons under him, fist around thier throat and squeezing--

Thinking of a furious Spite throwing him off just as the venatoris nails broke through Lucanis' skin. How he flares so violently, so viciously at not the blood mage in the lab coat, but Lucanis, that it has the man reeling back, sudden memory of the demon returning like an icepick to the head.

"Spite...?"

"STOP. STOP! YOU HURT. THEM!"

And Lucanis is so confused because they were the one who started with the hurting, who put him in chains, took his flesh and blood and did maker knows what with it.

The ache in his brain digs in, burrows down his spine, and he sees the place he thinks he's in shimmer and crack under the pressure of the water, of his memories flooding back.

"Spite," he asks slowly, the demon flaring protectively over the robed figure on the table. That ache sinks down, curls like cold smoke in his belly. "Who did I hurt?"

"YOU HURT. ROOK!"

And it's that one last syllable that has the walls caving, water rushing in and then he's on his bedroom floor, legs tangled in sweat dampened sheets. Eyes wide, breath hard and heavy, but then there are bare feet in front of him. Feet connected to ankles, and then shins. His vision snaps up, and there are those eyes he loves so dearly. He focuses on nothing but them, on Rook and how they drop to their knees in front of him with the softest words he's ever heard them speak. They slowly filter through the ringing in his ears.

"Are you with me, Lucanis? It's me, Rook. You're safe. You're home. You're with me. And you're safe here--"

They're reaching for him, unsure if they can touch. He wants to fall into them, reaches out to do just that, to make sure that they're real, that this is real, but then he sees a dark shadow on their neck. Something vaguely resembling...

"Amor," he breathes, hand mid air, breezing over their tear stained cheek. The picture comes into devastating focus, the bed halfway across the room, Rooks red cheeks, the shadow shaped like a hand print. He flinches back as if burned.

"I hurt you."

"Well. Tried to, at least," Rook jokes and Lucanis recoils further. "I've had worse, and I think Spite kinda threw you on your ass for even trying so. There's that."

And there he is, just over Rook's shoulder, puffed up like a collared lizard and glaring violet daggers at Lucanis.

"NO. HURTING. ROOK."

And of course there's the stream of consciousness of 'how could I even do such a thing/I cannot let myself have this if all I'll end up doing is destroying it' BUT

Counter offer

The idea that Spite is the one that will keep his body in line when his nightmares are bleeding into reality is kinda cool I guess maybe and I think that should be explored as an option perhaps

I trusted you, Uncle Will.

Color palette from this post (Don't you trust me?). This artwork has been stuck in WIP hell for a while, finally got it out thanks to the color palette challenge post.

Day 1: Reunion/Guilt

Happy Garrance week! Have angst!