Loras Malafronte

STARTER for @trialled-fate ( loras ) from ALOYSIUS

“YOU DON’T THINK PEOPLE ARE STARING AT ME, DO YOU?” aloysius had warmed up to the younger malafronte quite a lot. miłosz had really ingratiated him into the family. or what was left of it after sourpuss went all ‘woe-is-me’. 

aloysius…though he supposed he should be going by percival again… touched at his ears. 

“I WANTED TO TELL YOU ALL, REALLY. I WANTED TO TELL YOU I WAS…ACTUALLY FROM HERE. BUT I GOT SCARED YOU’D ALL THINK I WAS FULL OF BOLLUCKS REGARDING EVERYTHING, BUT YOU’RE ALL REALLY MY FRIENDS. HONESTLY.”

“You’re from here? Woud’ve been helpfu to know forl prepping, at least...” Loras’s eyes snap at Aloysius, nose scrunching most curiously. “Regarding everything, Al? Before I ask more questions, which I am sure will come the more wine I have, tell me something first. Why did you leave such a place, and - more importantly- what would people remember you for, here?” He leans in, clinking his wine before muttering “And keep spilling these secrets to me, mate. We are mates.” He reminded him, smirking slightly. 

location: patrian court

Night had finally allowed the children to slowly sleep. And so, Loras laid there with them, stroking their hair in this strange land’s palace- finally transferred from prisoner cells to abundant guest quarters. Resting with Ava curled up at his side, and Kal’s arm strewn over his chest, Loras lay, brow creased as he studied the intricate stitching of their chamber’s tapestries. Although the ambiance had shifted to a time of revelry in such a new world, Loras couldn’t shake the guilt of bringing his children on a journey that initially resulted in risk. Carefully- oh, so carefully- Loras lifted Kal’s arm and wiggled out from underneath his children’s cluches. Tiptoed to the room’s desk, dipped his quill in parchment, and began writing notes. Recording observations that kept him awake, figuring this - eventually, the reason why he was here- would be a way to allow himself some sleep. 

And then - out of the corner of his eye, he saw her. And suddenly, the loudest of thoughts seemed to quell and fade, rendered insignificant compared to the warmth Thalia brought whenever she was near. Pausing, he raised his hand, as if to remain quiet, and winked. “They’ve settled right in...” He teases, motioning her to move toward him. Smiling slightly, chewing his bottom lip as he admired her outline in the darkness. “D’you think they should be back in their proper beds, at home?”

✧･ﾟ: * ( cis man / he/him / charlie vickers ) — greetings, [ LORAS MALAFRONTE ] of [ HILAK ]. when the doom hit, you were [ UNALTERED ]. now that the doom is over, you are [ THIRTY-ONE ] and working as [ OWNER OF A MASS PRODUCED PRESS ]. rumors have been whispered around court that you are [ INQUISITIVE ] and [ HOPEFUL ]

sangcine​

𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐀𝐒:

Loras curses as he feels Udos’ shield, ready to attack again, teeth gritted and channeling enough anger, enough courage to carry on until he begins to hear Udos speak. Decipher the intonation, which stubbornly cuts through his own relentless craving for revenge and reaches out to the grieving mind left within him and allows him to pause enough to say, “Wait! Don’t-”  moving to try and help Otis, Loras snaps, “Then who’s doing was it? Who? Tell us what you know, for I cannot believe you’re innocent until then!”

@sangcine​

          otis is not in the mood for conversation. he was not one for words but for fists, for swings of an axe, for violence and blood spill. the god can pass blame to whomever they like but one who watches bad deeds and does nothing to stop it is just as bad. otis doesn’t trust them, any of them, they asked for a war they will get it.

     the cut, the dent in the shield, it makes otis utterly feral with the possibility of victory to be clenched between his teeth. years fighting has made otis built for this, his skin thick, his dark hues taking in every movement and thus the sword pommel coming down is caught quickly. otis swings his himself to the side out of the way, using the momentum to aim for the arm holding the sword.  “ SHUT UP AND FIGHT ! “

{ @doomnpc​ }

udos finally fights back against the little wild…the little shit beneath him. he cannot lose his fighting hand, and so, he drops to the floor, throwing any hold otis had on him away. with a violent kick, udos attempts to slam his foot into otis’s chest with a roar of anger.

“MY MOTHER, FATHER, SISTER, AND SIBLING ARE BEHIND IT!” udos calls to loras, the reasonable one. he kicks at otis again, hissing as his foot caught the blade just a touch. “MY MOTHER WAS THE ONE WHO STARTED IT. SHE HATES MY WIFE! SHE HATES ORA, AND SHE WANTED REVENGE ON YOU. ON THE EZIANS. THE QUICKLINGS.”

( @trialled-fate​ )

“Revenge on what- why- for your family drama?!” Loras snaps, his voice far from tough and almost crackling with how exhausted he felt of it all, scrambling no matter how scared he truly was, that rattled his bones as he moved to try and stand between Otis and Udos. His head is light, he can’t think clearly, too strung out on adrenaline in the lead-up to this battle. “Can it be reversed? Tell us! You want to help us, or fight us? Choose now, and let Otis kick your arse-” he’d hoped, though he’d seen Otis fight several times, “Or tell us something we can fucking use to stop this mess your damn family has created!”

sangcine​

         “  helped yourselves more like !  “  otis is relentless in his axe swings, sweat building on his skin from exertion. but otis is not angry at the gods, they may have attributed, but otis has always been angry. the best way for a walking bomb to release such things  ?  fighting. that’s all he has ever known. 

     the hit with the shield knocks otis for a moment, balance sent, knee meeting the floor in order to brace himself. but he’s soon up, twirling the axes above his head before bringing it down as hard as he can against the god’s body.  “  no one’s praying for you anymore  !  “

{ @doomnpc​ }

udos blocks as best as he can, unable to defend from both sides. the axe from otis…cuts him? and he pulls back with a cry of shock. their weapons were not… they had found king honoris’s notes, then. good.

“IT WAS NOT MY DOING! DO—?” he fends off an attack from loras and bashes him with his shield before turning back to otis and his axe. the ezian brings the axe down, and it dents his shield. damn it. he liked this shield.

“IT WAS NOT MY DOING! DO I REALLY LOOK LIKE THE MASTERMIND TYPE?” he sighs. he’s going to have to take one out of commission for a bit. otis seems to be his best bet, considering he is the most aggressive. udos focuses his next attack on otis, flipping his sword away from the men and attempting to bash him with the pommel of his sword.

( @trialled-fate​ )

Loras curses as he feels Udos’ shield, ready to attack again, teeth gritted and channeling enough anger, enough courage to carry on until he begins to hear Udos speak. Decipher the intonation, which stubbornly cuts through his own relentless craving for revenge and reaches out to the grieving mind left within him and allows him to pause enough to say, “Wait! Don’t-”  moving to try and help Otis, Loras snaps, “Then who’s doing was it? Who? Tell us what you know, for I cannot believe you’re innocent until then!”

STARTER for @trialled-fate , @sangcine from UDOS

udos jumps back, separated from ora. he calls out to her as the mutilated freaks his family had created crawl into every opening they can find. udos curls his lip in disgust. his sword and shield are out in moments just in case, and he is right to pull them free as two others approach him.

he raises his shield to await the attack, face set in a permanent scowl. he wishes ora were closer. she could tell him what to do. the divine never liked to make decisions for himself, but his wife had brought out the better in him.

“STAY BACK!” he called to those approaching. he hoped it would be enough.

         there are days that arlo forgets his baby brother is now a man. forgets that loras is no longer demanding to be on his back because his little legs have grown tired, crawling into his bed in the night to ask when mother will come home- that he’s no longer this small bundle in the arms of seventeen year old arlo. the world has presented the cruel twist of it’s mouth, the sharpness of it’s claws and arlo has curled himself around loras and taken the brunt of it all. but now it is he who loras should fear, arlo is now the one with a a mouth of fangs. arlo is now the monster in loras’ fairy tale’s.

     the moment his brother’s gaze turns to demelza, arlo does not brace himself, there’s an acceptance that arlo will receive anger. he remembers when loras saw arlo’s new curse amongst the castle walls. the fear, the repulsion, the loss of contact as he cut arlo off. they had reunited but arlo still thinks of that period of time, feels how it is merely a sample of what will come. the youngest malafronte speaks of seeking help, arlo wishes he could speak- tell him that this was the help demelza sought. a bloodied helping hand, cruel curl of strength, the undoing of a beating heart. 

     by the curse- the tears. he watches them slip down his brother’s cheeks, but this time… this time arlo is not going to wipe them away. he won’t slip a thumb across the cheekbone, collect the sadness and hold loras close. how can you comfort someone for the actions you did  ?  he also can’t risk… he can’t risk touching his brother, or anyone again. a moment of weakness to wipe away a tear could end in another loss without a moment to blink. instead he has to watch, witness up close as grief grips the very bones under loras’ skin and twist the heart painfully within. 

     the demanding questions even cause arlo to flinch, less so from tone but from himself. if only he could word the answer, force his tongue to find the words to slip between his bloodied lips. instead his teeth seek out the muscle, sinking in deep enough to taste the foulness of cursed blood. how do you tell the one that is more like your child than your brother that you killed their aunt  ?  that you sunk your hand deep into her chest as she thought of the sea and ripped her heart out  ?  there’s the crushing feeling, the weight of realisation that he may have lost demelza to death but he will also lose loras and lucia to what he has become.

     tears rise but do not fall, blood collecting at the corner of his lips from his own tongue. once a man who knew what to do, a strong pillar within the family, someone to rely on. now a creature shaking in fear of it’s own reflection with teeth bared at those he loves the most as a cage he has made begins to pull in. fangs release arlo’s tongue, swallowing sickly black blood down his throat in order to try and say something. all he manages is a broken apology, something so scattered in range, cracking like ice.  “  i’m sorry-  “

One foot in front of the other. Slow crescendo acceleration towards Demelza’s form, limp in Arlo’s arms. He was too young to feel this type of guilt when their family was taken from them. Too young, unable to understand how, or why - and though the youngest surviving Malafronte sibling both ached over the years and chased after his mind as it ran away with his memories, over time there was acceptance over what he couldn’t possibly have affected when tragedy and threat struck. 

But with Arlo, Loras’s guilt was different. Always felt so very different. They grew alongside each other, and Loras clung onto his brother like armour, like a second skin, hoping that he could help shelter his caretaker from whatever curse their family had endured. Each time Arlo had to slip into crime or mysterious deeds to bring home necessary goods, Loras felt culpable. If only he could help him stay, if only he could do enough so they could both want for nothing. He thought he’d lost Arlo once before, but new chance at life was running rampant lately. The Malafronte name was forming back together, and their aunt, and their sister were full of life-- therefore, Loras, full of hope. 

Now? The alarming blood streak across Arlo’s lips, a macabre vision of all that hope vanishing.  Arlo was gone, too, Loras reckoned, head panicked and unable to think clearly about circumstance. And now, their aunt was dead, and all felt so lost again. Danger lurked in the form of this terrible blood fiend curse. He wasn’t about to risk Kal or Thalia’s life by trusting it. 

𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍:  a day after demelza’s death, six days before leaving for the castle 𝐖𝐇𝐎:  @trialled-fate​ 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄:  the malafronte home  -  loras’ room

          the room was silent beside kal’s soft snores, the moonlight drifting into the shattered window and spotlighting her son as she gently lifted her pale fingers from his scalp.  the home was colder than usual, a sense of death lingering in the air since demelza’s demise the previous night  -  the horror that had etched upon her face upon hearing the news was similar to when she found her mother’s lifeless corpse.  disbelief and shock.  she would never understand how a person could be with you one minute and gone the next. 

          “sweet dreams my darling boy … ” her voice is quiet as she leaves kal’s crib, lingering her fingers against the aged wood for a moment before stepping to the edge of loras’ bed.  to lose one loved one is hard enough, to have lost so many family to the same illness before … that was harder to understand and hold onto. demelza had been a solid piece of the malafronte family, returned to the boys just as lucia had been, and now she was ripped from them in such a personal manner. “i’m sorry … i’m so sorry, loras … ” still stood by the edge of the bed, thalia pulls the man into her chest, pressing a kiss to the top of his head as she holds him close.

All he could think about was Demelza. All he could see was his aunt- though she had come back into his life after years away from it, he felt like she’d fit there, so wonderfully, so perfectly, forever. He was going to show her a home worth staying around for. But now, his eyes tired, red and hazed over as though he’d been living the past day half asleep. Loss, after loss crept up on him, and Demelza’s death brought forth waves of so much more grieving he didn’t know he carried. But it all came out,   haunted him as he stood in the same house where his brother took her last moments. And yet again in his life, when tragedy struck, Loras was helpless.  Too late to stop it all.

He’d spent the day barely saying a word. Rage, panic, fury, hatred, grief- worse a pain than starvation and any guilt he’d ever felt. His cheeks red, his quaking hand over his face. He thought of Kal, too. Sleeping soundly, and he tried not to break down in front of him, because amongst this pain was love for that baby. An unyielding need to protect, and shelter him from all the horrors he’d witnessed. 

𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐎𝐑: @trialled-fate​ 𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍: the malafronte home

          hilak would have to wait. amongst the grief he knew that. he promised to take her home but there will be no home if the divines had their way. so the blood fiend decides to take his aunt to her room, her head resting in the crook of his neck as a shell shocked arlo makes his way through the halls with her in his arms. glass crunches under his boot, the occasional pieces splitting the leather, but sadness has left him numb to physical pain.

     cold winds slip through gaps in the walls where windows once resided, the occasional light noise of tinkling as the breeze removes glass from arlo’s hair and hits the ground. there’s a handful of people outside, all whispering as they look at the malafronte home and it’s current condition. it makes it far easier to see the cursed one wandering the halls with a body.

     arlo does not even notice his baby brother at first, so set on taking demelza back to her room, tucking her in- keeping her safe till he can take her home. but when his gaze lifts, a wreck of a creature with their loved one in his arms. there’s a coil of sharp cold fear at the hatred that would soon be thrown his way. dark hues water, peering out through in almost a silent pleading way towards his sibling. please don’t hate me. please don’t come near me.  

 The day was calm- enough to accompany Thalia to collect tea for his aunt, and run off to the bookshop - pour through the shelves that went unnoticed amongst the impending clash with the divines. Select an old tale Arlo used to share when Loras was a young thing, hoped he could have Arlo read it to Kal, before they run off on this next, seemingly impossible mission. 

He brushes past a few onlookers, too stuck in his own thoughts to truly recognise what they’re all staring at. What they’re whispering about. But soon, the path to his family’s home becomes realised once more- he’s walking up to the front door before he realises it. And he sees the glass, the windows, the wreckage. Vague awareness creeps in, and with it, dread. “Ex-excuse me-” he mumbles, lightly jogging into the home, peering around the walls with a worry that made him feel small once more. 

          his kisses are soft and sweet, momentarily causing her to forget the harshness of the world around her and the loss of the divines faith within her heart  -  it was a simple action and yet it made her heart soar and her mind calm. a heat raises against her cheeks and covers her freckles, the flush reaching for the tips of her ears as a soft smile pulls at her lips. “oh my love, my sweet loras. what would i do without you, hm?” she cups his cheek, carressing his cheek with her soft fingers  -  a sweet and short gesture. then, it was as if arlo’s words were being echoed in her mind from his arrival at her home a few nights prior. leave, take kal and leave. she looks away for a moment before placing her other hand on his other cheek, a weary smile on her lips. “i can’t, i wish i could, but i can’t, loras. i need to fight and i need to protect those that need it, including my family … you, arlo, gwen, ember, lucia … kal. i can’t abandon all of you to save my own hide when my mother would have been in the fight, helping. i wouldn’t be able to look at myself after the war, i would only see a coward …kal would only see a coward.”

“No matter what, Thalia, you are no coward. Far from it... ” He breathes, although his heart aches already for whatever could occur to them both. But her smile  is the  most beautiful thing in this world- a calm power is found within it, and Loras can’t look away. He he loved Thalia for all she was - so giving, in her nature, that she was ready to lay down all security to protect those she cared for. Of course, this is what must occur. He would follow her til the end, if only to be there for her. “I love you.” He mutters- the word not out of fear from her facing such dangers, but an admission that he loved every part of her. With it, too, an admission that he would be beside her, through whatever came their way. And if she wished to come, he would do all he could to help her. 

“And when this is over...” he wavers, he can’t pretend the odds are against them, but he moves his hand down her shoulder, keeping her close as he studies her eyes, “Not if--- when.” More, convincing himself than anything, “Kal will always know the strength his mother exudes. And I’ll remind him of it, every day that I’m blessed to share with you.”

          sometimes arlo is envious that loras does not remember the darker side to his childhood in striking detail the way arlo remembers it. watching loved ones fade into nothing before his eyes and he could not do a damn thing to stop them. arlo would run to pray, beg whatever god would listen to spare his mother, his little sisters, his baby brothers. but the gods never listened, they chose to leave arlo all alone to raise his brother with grief set deep into his bones.

but within the ashes of their family- arlo raised a phoenix. a little boy to a man who could rival the sun itself. he still has no idea how, arlo is a cold monstrous thing and yet- his brother holds strength in kindness.    ❝   she would have loved her. a fiery woman with a heart of gold  ?  mamma would have adored thalia, the two were much alike.   ❞   there’s a sad fondness in the small smile that appears on the blood fiend’s lips. thinking of his mother was always- a mixture of crushing but also an encompassing warmth. a frigid winter but there were flickers of a fire just out of reach. though with every passing year his memories would grow fogged, like a painting slowly sinking into the water and losing shape, detail. sometimes he can hear his mother humming the kitchen, feel her fingers fixing his curls and some days- some days he can’t remember if her eyes were brown or green or both.    ❝   there’s part of her in that ring, i’m sure of it. as for the advice-   ❞  there’s a soft but broken breathy laugh that slips passed his lips. he runs a hand down his face and hums.    ❝   she’d say you full name, all four of them, stern fondness in every syllable and probably waving a wooden spoon from the kitchen at you. her advice was always a mix of stern but loving. she’d probably tell you to marry that girl before she slipped away, punctuates the entire thing by prodding you in the chest with the spoon.   ❞   his voice wavers a moment, eyes glossing with tears but he has drilled into himself he cannot cry in front of his brother for so many years that they simply cannot fall.    ❝   she’d be proud of you.   ❞

He couldn’t even remember what she sounded like. Odd, that- Loras trying to imagine how soothing her voice would sound. If she had the same cool-toned sway that so many wrapped up and bound to the Malafronte line had possessed. And so, Loras found he’d imagined his mother formed in beautiful mysteries life had placed along his path. A particular tree sprouting flowers too early for spring. A cat prancing across an alleyway, sounding like a song. Bells chiming in the distance. He’d accepted his mother to be more fable, fanastical than tangible. But watching Arlo speak of her, how his lips curved in memory, he couldn’t help but feel a sting in his eye. Proud that Arlo was even wavering his words, allowing the vulnerable softness of missing a mother sink in. And so, Loras did what was second nature- he reached out and hugged him, wrapped his arms around his brother and rested his face into his shoulder. “I know you wouldn’t think it, Arlo. I know life hasn’t been so kind to you, and the things it’s lead you to do-- for me--” hesitating, he sighed, tearing up now and not ashamed of it. “I’m proud of you. She sure as the gods would be, too. Because you are good, Arlo. And I’m lucky for you, whatever form you’re in.”

trialled-fate​.

Thalia had been busying herself since the news broke of the gods, her mind scattered as impending threats and doom crept over arella, her busy hands moving between the herb garden outside her small shack of a home and entertaining her ever growing boy. it’s as she is making faces at kal to soothe his crying when she is pulled against loras’ lips, eyes fluttering shut as lips curl into a soft smile  -  he never failed to warm and calm her. his words squeeze her chest as she opens her eyes to look over his soft features, “our journey…so, you haven’t been completely called to arms against the gods yet, we’ll protect eachother, yes?”

Loras can feel his lips curling up into a slight smile as soon as his  kiss catches her. His hand brushes against her cheek as he mutters with one more slight kiss against her temple. Like there isn’t enough time to waste another moment; and so, shameless over how foolish it may sound, he mutters low,“You make the sun shine no matter how disgusting the weather gets. Or how dark everything else seems to turn...” He  leans back to view her, to catch the light in her eye. Only, wishing he could tell her he’d stay by her side. That she’d not have to worry, that the three of them could forget, and move forward, and Kal could grow up with only fable tales of the doom. But he eyes her, and he can’t muster up a convincing smile. Only, pulling her chin up softly , leaning in to mutter. “You know I have to go, Lia... If I did not, I wouldn’t be able to face myself.”He swallows, throat dry before he adds, “But you know --  we will have our happiness. You, me, Kal.  That’s something to fight for... I want to have every day, with you both in my life.. If I promise you I’ll return, will you promise me you’ll find somewhere safe?”

𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐒: closed 𝐅𝐎𝐑: @trialled-fate​

          their world was growing more tumultuous. wave after wave of death, destruction, fear leaving them all with a shorter expectancy on this earth. thus arlo had been pondering, dark hues watching as his brother fell more and more in love with a particular redhead. there’s very few things arlo managed to save from the malafronte home, not enough if he were to allow the voices to berate him. but one thing in particular that arlo fought to keep was his mother’s wedding ring. while mother and father’s marriage wasn’t… perfect. actually it was far from perfect, but mother picked her own ring, father had very little to do with it other than getting on one knee. 

it sits in a small velvet box, well looked after with a piece of sea glass in the centre parading as a diamond. it’s not much, but it was a piece of the sea, of their home, of her all wrapped up into one. though it’s not easy to part with… arlo knows loras will take care of it well. he takes a seat opposite his baby brother, sliding the box across the table before lacing his hands on top of the wood.    ❝   i’ve been meaning to give you this- but under one condition.   ❞   dark hues meet the eyes of the boy he raised, no- no longer a boy but a man with a heart bigger than anyone arlo knew.    ❝   when you do choose to get down on one knee… be it for thalia. that’s my only condition, baby brother. mother’s ring is yours now.   ❞

Loras sprawled across his seat, bubbling with fear, curiosity-- a restless undercurrent  only visible by how feverishly he bounced his knee, quiet but subconsciously fast, beneath the table. Soon, he’d start asking Arlo ridiculous questions just to fill any space in the air and distract, the lingering moments where thoughts of dread and worry about whatever ominous, otherworldly perils continued to batter their family. Ridiculous questions like,'Do your fangs get extra pointy from certain foods or weather? If so, which ones?’ or ‘Do you think gods move slow because mortal time is insignificant compared to theirs in years, centuries? How many Loras lives would be equivalent to one god’s life?’