Tell me we'll never get used to it

-

Oz couldn’t suppress the small smile that pulled at his lips, nodding along with his best friend. They had picked up so many quirks and inside jokes over the years of friendship and being bandmates, almost like they had their own personal language just for the two of them. “Yeah, probably is.” He chuckled. Ozzy did think about rolling up a joint for them to share but then remembered he didn’t actually have any on him at the studio so quickly tossed that idea aside. 

When his friend leaned over to read what he’d been putting together, Oz had to stop himself from instantly snatching the paper away so he couldn’t. “Oh uh, yeah I’ve got most of the album written. This is just….a new idea I had. I don’t know if it’s going anywhere, probably won’t make it onto the album anyway.” He shrugged.

Eyes skimmed over the paper but he didn’t really take in what was actually written. Eyes began to be crossed as he tried to read, a sign that jet lag was starting to kick in. Maybe he needed sugar time more than he realized. “So why stress over it then?” He asked moving those eyes from the paper to his best friend and one of the few constants in his whirlwind life. Moments like this was his favorite, just the two of them like it had been years ago when the band was just a child’s wishful dream. So much had changed since then, for both of them and at times August wished he could go back and tell the young versions of them what was in store. “Speaking of which, how much more do we have before it’s done done? Like what all did I miss while I was in New York for a few days? Did Enz finally nail that wicked riff he was working on?”

-

Oz almost startled when August spoke, having been so wrapped up in his attempts at writing that he forgot the other was even in the room with him, assuming he’d gone home or out for the night like the rest of the band. “Shit man, you scared me. I figured you took off hours ago.” He replied with a small chuckle, ring covered fingers running through his shaggy hair to snatch it all back into a messy bun. 

He sighed almost in defeat and tossed his pencil to the desk before leaning back in his chair. “You can try but the words just aren’t coming to me tonight. I think I should probably just admit defeat.” He shrugged. Ozzy was honestly a little surprised August was still in the studio considering he’d flown in late, he figured his best friend would have hit the town for drinks or something by now or just gone home to crash the jetlag away. 

“Ah so it is sugar time,” August said with a smile, leaning up from where he was relaxing on the couch. Even as he moved the drumstick in his hand didn’t fall, still spinning around his finger. Practice, years of practice. Sugar time was something he had invited during their second album, needing an excuse to get Ozzie out of the studio and be a human for a few hours to reset his mind. Now August had a different white powder that kept him going but he could do some gummy bears. 

Slowly he stopped his twirling and set the stick down beside him as he leaned forward on his knees to look at the paper in front of his best friend the best he could at this angle. “Which song is this for? I thought you had most of it written by now...” 

Band Verse || @tinysaurusrexwrites​

It wasn’t uncommon for Ozzie to be up late into the night writing, he’d had the same old routine of creative expression since he was thirteen and wrote his first song, but lately he’d felt blocked. The music came easily, the chords almost seemed to write themselves but when he tried to compose lyrics for the songs he had more balled up cast offs than actual pieces of real material. 

The frustration was clearly getting to him after what felt like forever in the studio with no breaks, but the album needed to be finished or they wouldn’t meet their deadline for production. “Fuck.” He grumbled to himself once more, tossing aside another piece of paper into the growing pile. 

Drumstick in hand, it twirled around his fingers without August even having to look. It was as much as a part of him as his eyes or nose, never being too far from his drumsticks since he picked them up at a young age. It’s something he did to stim or fidget when he had to sit still which was what he was doing currently. Still a bit jet lagged from the red eyed flight he had caught the nihgt before, Ausust stifled a yawn trying not to fall asleep when his best friend spoke in what felt like hours.  “You okay there, Izzy?” Childhood best friends, August had many names for his bandmate; Izzy, Oz, tartaruga. Though honestly August didn’t even have to ask, seeing that look on his face many times over the years. Whatever part of the album Oz was working on was starting to wear and frustrate him. “Want me to take a crack at it? Or is it time for a sugar break?”

It was a curious sight for Horus to see the other god go from confident and cocky to clearly worried. It certainly made him look almost mortal, a trait Greyson actually found more appealing. He didn’t like other gods much, they were all the same, arrogant and full of themselves and their power. Greyson had always preferred mortals, they were complicated, messy, but full of heart. “That depends on how badly you want the ring. If he is a god, I’m not that interested in getting involved, but that wouldn’t stop me from taking back what’s mine anyway.”

Years, it had been years if not longer since he last saw his brother. Leo was the opposite side of the same coin as his and he had dreamed of the day he could see his twin alive once again. Now that he was so close he could taste it but this-- well he had to admit that if it was another god who held the ticket to see his brother in his hand then Ender was a bit hesitant about going forward. Leo was worth it of course but Greyson was right; they didn’t want to get involved. “Fuck, I can’t do this without you, as you have reminded me many many times.” A deep sigh as he ran his hand over his face, still showing the more vulnerable side to the other who was now basically a forced friend. “But I have to have him back. Without my brother a piece of me is missing...”

It shouldn’t surprise Greyson as much as it did that the other had that full of himself attitude, but there was something almost subtly charming about it even if Horus had seen enough narcissist in his millennia alive. “Yeah, we are us but do you know who this guy is? I mean really know who he is? Because I’m not looking to get mixed up in more god business, I’ve spent the better part of the last two millennia trying to stay out of it.” Greyson spoke, sitting back in his chair, strong arms folded across his chest. Of course, he wanted the ring for his own reasons, he had unfinished business with Anubis and he was the only one who could resurrect him. “You could say it, but it’s more fun when he’s not.” Horus smirked. 

This caused Dionysus to pause his finger that was still circling the rim of his wine glass. He honestly hadn’t thought that it could be another god that held their precious ring. Fuck. “I assumed that he was mortal...” his words trailed off as he looked at the picture once again that now lied on the table, the man’s beady dark eyes staring back at him as if he could see Ender staring at him. If that was a god, could the two of them take him on for a chance to see their loved ones again? “What if he is a god,” his voice was still soft when he spoke, the confidence that usually oozed out of him gone. “Do we still go after it or do we just give up?”

-

Quentin was about to explain that yes his sister was here and no she was far from okay before Elias spoke and began to try and explain, but it was Ender’s reaction, that familiar scarlet magic that Quentin knew to be Wanda’s borrowed for now, that had the young vampire seeing red. “Don’t touch him!” Q growled, eyes flaring with dark veins and fangs growing in his mouth in his anger. “No she is far from alright! She has been suffering like me all these decades as a slave until it was decided we would be turned! So don’t talk to me about how we abandoned you! Where were you when we needed you? Where were any of you! You all left us to rot! And now we are trying to survive as best we can. I was fortunate enough that Elias is my sire but Esme is bound to Varian and she suffers for it every day!” Quentin hissed angrily. 

“I never stopped wanting to be a sorcerer, we miss our magic every day. Maybe I thought you could help, that you might want to help us, your blood. But it seems like you’ve already turned your back on the both of us, or would this conversation be different if it was Esme and not me?” Quentin asked, trying to keep the hurt from his voice. He knew of all his siblings he was the one least loved by them all, only his twin cared. 

For a second, Ender Malikov had no idea what hurt more; the fact his brother was defending the vampire who had kidnapped him or the fact his sister was suffering. He couldn’t even keep the sliver of pain off of his face at these thoughts and so he didn’t try to hide it. Yes, he wasn’t as close to Q as he was to his own twin or Esme and he knew he was to blame for that. Quentin was taken from him before he could even begin to bond more with the younger brother but that didn’t mean he never cared about him. There had been many nights where he cried in darkness over the loss of both of them when he knew he was safe from telling eyes. None of this would ever be told though, confessed out loud at this show of weakness. 

“Right now you are not my blood,” he hissed out, those eyes still red as he held onto that tether of magic that connected him with his mistress. Just in case. “Not when you bare your fangs to me like that. We were told you were dead. That there was no hope to come after you. You think I didn’t want to come after you? That I wasn’t fighting to come after you making plans to escape in the dark?” The chuckle that escaped deep in his chest was was a dry and humorless one. “I didn’t rise to the rank of second just because I wanted the power that came with it. I did it so I was strong enough to come for you. To save you from them,” spitting the word in Eliâs’ direction. “When I finally got here, got to the point I didn’t have to ask to go after you, I was told there was no bodies to go after.” 

The wound was too open to hide the hurt that was oozing out, that many many years of pain and wondering what if. Looking at Quentin now, the red still lingered in his irises but it was lighter as he loosed the hold on that tether. It was silent for a second, letting the hurt he had felt linger in the air before finally speaking, his voice just a whisper now, “my first act as second was to build a small memorial at the cliffs where I could find you at when you pretended to run away from home. I knew if I couldn’t bring you back home at least I could make sure you could always look at the sky.”   

Ancient Gods Verse || @tinysaurusrexwrites​

“So you want me to help you retrieve the ring of Anubis from this guy, so you can ask him to resurrect your brother from the underworld?” Greyson questioned, pointing to the picture of one of the most wealthy and dangerous men in the world that was sat on the table between them. Not that any mortal had Horus worried, but it seemed there were many more gods at play still even if the world thought them all gone, considering he now sat across the table from Dionysus himself. “You know, I’m surprised it’s your brother you’re asking to resurrect and not some long lost love, that’s usually what people want.” He mused thoughtfully. 

“I do believe that is what I said,” Ender said lounging in the very uncomfortable chair that he was currently lounging in, his index finger circling the rim of his wine glass causing the many rings on his fingers to glint in the dim light. It wasn’t his temple back in Naxos but he managed to make any room seem luxurious just by being in it, no matter who grim or dirty it was. “It shouldn’t be too hard, after all I am me and you are you.” Two old gods that the world may have forgotten but still powerful could easily take a puny mortal. “I believe this is the part where I say something along the lines of blood being thicker than water, or whatever that bullshit is. If it makes it easier for you, I could always say he was some long lost lover. Though don’t be too surprised when he looks just like me. Narcissism is strong in this one,” Ender said pointing to himself. 

-

Quentin didn’t hide his flinches this time as his brother spoke. He knew that perhaps he could have reached out sooner, but even if Elias was good to him, it was still a fine line he and Esme walked. She was not so safe with her master and as much as Elias could care, he could be cruel. For a moment Quentin wished they were alone so that he could speak completely freely, but he had to trust that even if he did say something that might anger his sire, he wouldn’t say something that would truly get him in trouble. 

“Being kept as slave feeders didn’t exactly grant us the opportunity to reach out to you. We wanted to, Esme was desperate, but we couldn’t risk it. We might have some more freedom now but that still doesn’t make us free. The hierarchy is….complicated.” Quentin tried to explain, chancing a hesitant look at Elias just to gauge his reaction. Now Quentin summed up a little more of his own Malikov snark, just because he didn’t think it was fair the blame was entirely put on himself and Esme. The witches hadn’t come looking for them, they hadn’t saved them despite how hard the twins had prayed they would. “I wanted to know if you could help me reclaim my magic. I thought it was lost after the turn, but I still feel it.”

The flinches he saw on his brother’s face left him feeling victorious and also a bit ashamed knowing he was the one to cause that. Yet he didn’t show it, or even look back at him when he was fed excuses on why he couldn’t have contacted them until now. His mistress had told him these things before, but she also said there were ways around this hierarchy if one really wanted. It seemed that neither one of his siblings wanted it bad enough. “Is she here?” His voice was low, his back turned to the youngest Malikov son as he poured himself a glass of perfectly aged wine from his decanter. He had drank at the bar earlier as a way to ‘celebrate’ this new engagement he was tossed into but he wasn’t drunk enough for this conversation. “Es, is she okay?” 

As he turned to meet Q’s eyes, the vampire spoke for the first time since he walked into the room. Accent thick on his tongue he reassured, “she is here with her master, si. She--” Eliâs’ words were cut off with a flick of Ender’s hand drawing in the magical bind he had with his mistress. It was her magic he used in that moment to silence the vampire not wanting to hear the beast speak. “I was not talking to you,” eyes where bright red as he hissed at the vampire and slowly turned them onto Q once again. “So after years of no contact with us, you want to be one of us again? Why? Why should I help you when you are a monster wearing my brother’s skin?”

Quentin tried not to flinch at his brother’s harsh words, but he expected them, they were Malikov’s it was what they had been raised to have, a viper’s tongue that cut deep. But Quentin never expected to have that venom turned on himself. He glanced away from Ender, unable to meet his eyes for a moment, aware that he now looked like the immortalised creature that he was, pale skin and perfect beauty, like a marble statue. He was glad for Elias’ presence now, because it gave him the strength and courage to continue. “We’re not here for that. I wanted to see you, talk to you. I just…don’t know where to begin.” Quentin tried to explain, finally looking at the other, his eyes sad. 

Tearing his eyes away from the man beside Q, he now looked at his brother with a bit of impatience. He was aware that in that moment he resembled his twin brother in not just looks but mannerisms but he didn’t care. Ender looked up to Leo at times like this, admiring the way he could his snark to lash out in times like this. Of course, all of his siblings could do it but the eldest son always had a real talent for it. “Years-- no decades. It has been decades since I last saw you, assuming you were dead because he had no word of your well being and now all of the sudden you come here asking me for help?” If this had been all those years ago, if this had been under different circumstances he would have agreed in a heartbeat; anything for his siblings. But this was now and all Ender could do was shake his head and declare, “you better find those words fast, Quentin, because the longer you stand there the less likely I will agree to whatever it is you need.” Because why else would Q show up to his suite like this? He had plenty of chances to reach out to Ender, especially after he was turned.