#tbd || Lugh and Luka

[whosxafraid]

Borrowed Writing Prompt Meme Day 5 : Lavender Verse: A Wolf In Wool Cloth || A Mortally Modern AU Featured: @brooklynislandgirl | @quothesquills | @macdiari | @damhsagreine

There’s a silence that takes over when the would be king sends all scattering. A tension in the air so thick the slightest misstep could snap it in two. Trigger the volcano that will level cities with its earth quakes. Swallow cities with its tsunami. They know because they’ve seen it. A few of them. The select few that know the truth. The singular that can sooth the monster no matter the cause of the rage. That creates a far different point of contention to gather between the molecules. But none dare to look that particular cold war in the eye. To worried about remaining aside the reigning demon than in his path. 

Whispers between the few trusted to keep the place in order. Feet that are practiced in the ways of moving without shattering the quiet that stretches beyond the dark heavy wood doors. And if they were to give name to their salvation without ever having seen her face--many would say lavender. Because it both proceeds and chases her own steps. Willow-o-wisp like as she is, though far different words are applied.

Soothsayer.         Enchantress.              Witch of Brooklyn.

But to him she is none those things. To him she is carried on a imagined mist of relief. Shelter from the onslaught both of his own making and not. Shelter instead of a break wall to crash against him with the same fury. One that smells of soil, berries, oils--all the good things of the earth that he is not. Might have been once. But not now that the rot has taken root. Made him a smoked mirror image of a brother in another life. A shared madness across so many realms he knows not at all exist. Realms that if put to task--many might find perhaps that it not his fault. Many might bring to light the sins of others that he was made to bear. In cost to how greatly he was loved.

But it isn’t just the scent of her that works to ease. No it is other things. The contact of skin with not else but her salves between. The smoke that rises and twists and carries the sweetened tang into his nostrils. Works from the inside out as she does from the outside in. Dulls the pain of scars wrought in mind and body. Hushes the fear no one else is allowed to see. Takes away the instruments of his own self destruction. and lulls the pain thirsting mania to sleep. 

It doesn’t fix it.         No, never fix.                Fixing is for broken things.                        And a mad prince is anything but broken.                                Just as a witch is so much more than lavender.

#brooklynislandgirl #quothesquills #macdiari #damhsagreine #Blood Words Promised || Beth and Luka #Love The Way You Lie || Anya and Luka #tbd || Lugh and Luka #tbd || Lorcan and Luka #[ one day i will have super meaningful tags for those last two ships omf ] #A Wolf In Wool Cloth || A Mortally Modern AU #Wolves Do Not Lose Sleep Over The Opinions Of Sheep || Que

[whosxafraid]

54) things you always meant to say but never got the chance

Meme: Things promptsStatus: Selectively Open

           “Well…oi’ did’ it…oi’ made i’.”

Its quiet in the motel room. A small splurge because he doesn’t want to bother his squaddies. Doesn’t want to impose. They’ve they’re own celebrating to do, with their own families. Earned that and didn’t deserve the proverbial fifth wheel of their basically homeless team mate. So here is he after graduation. Sitting alone with a bottle of his dad’s favorite on the table. Two shots set and poured, but untouched. Because fingers are to busy worrying the edges of a well worn photo. Creased and weathered from being kept as close to his vest as he could.

And there’s a momentary smile that comes and goes. Wondering what it is his father might say. If he’d be proud of him, or if he’d have expected more. If Luka has some how and unknowingly let him down. A glance at the cell phone on the bed side table. He could–no. No he can’t. That would undo all the reasons he’s here. All the reasons he can call himself a SEAL. All the reasons that he’s sitting alone, celebrating that fact with nothing but himself and an old picture that can’t really join in, in the affair.

So the photo is leaned to one of the shots of whiskey, the other picked up and lifted just enough to carry the implication. 

             “S’one’s f’ ye, Da. Wouldna got d’is far wi’d ou’ ye.”

And the shot is knocked back. Allowed to burn all the way down to his stomach, as he refills his glass. Gaze traveling to the floor as fingers slick against the glass.

             “Oi’miss ye, ye know? Wish ye were here. Wish ye could see. M’goin’ ta foi’nd ye, Da. Foi’nd ou’ wha’ happened. Goin’ ta bring ye home…oi’dunna care how long i’takes. Oi’ promise.”

Another bit of whiskey drawn back and emptied. He’ll be here all night, no where to go. No where to be. And that’s okay. Sometimes celebrating was better done with a bottle of Ireland’s finest and your da for company. Even if it is…just memories.

#[post via mobile] #damhsagreine #tbd || Lugh and Luka #Traveling Soldier || Military AU [ Closed ] #Return to Sender || Answered Asks

[whosxafraid]

56) things you said in the spur of the moment {BosMob}

Meme: Things promptsStatus: Selectively Open

              “Oi’ll rip ‘is feckin’ heart out when i’ suits me!”

Fists upon the table as he stands. The words echoing in the kind of wave that would have lesser men flinching. Lesser men poised to avoid any unseen lash out that might occur. Because he reigns with just as much terror as he does respect. But who can really be blamed for it? Can really be accused of the shame for how unstable he has become. How he rules his growing kingdom of backrooms and blood in the gutters. Yet for all of that, his audience…does not buckle. 

No they stand strong and unaffected. A stronghold the younger man can not sway or chip with even his greatest of dragons. Because he came from that stone. And he can not turn that sharpness on his own making. No matter how much he might try. No matter how much hate and jealousy there might be in his veins. No matter how much slowly unraveling insanity.

            “He be payin’ for wha’ he done in spades. An’ f’ye no’ helpin’ me d’en ye be in me way.”

#[post via mobile] #damhsagreine #tbd || Lugh and Luka #A Wolf In Wool Cloth || A Mortally Modern AU #Return to Sender || Answered Asks

[whosxafraid]

11) things you said when you were drunk

Meme: Things promptsStatus: Selectively Open

            Ye need ta come ho—

          “Oi’ be home.”

               Luka–

           “No. Ye dunna ge'ta call me d'at. D'ought oi’ made d'at clear d'las’ toi'me.”

And his bloods up. Fist clenched around the bottle in his hand. The other around the door knob, that groans in minor complaint. Shoulders squaring off ready for a battle the amount of liquor in his veins should counteract. Because for all that Michaeline is a fixture he can’t route out, there’s bitterness tainting all of it. Bitterness that his mother dared move on. Bitterness she and his siblings didn’t stay so loyal as Luka did. Bitterness that he perhaps should have let go of. But it’s hard when even grown he still believes his da, his real one, had hung the sun. 

           “Feck off, Mi—.”

                  Christ boy will you just listen ta me?! Ye ma has been troi'yin’ ta get ahold of ye for mont’s! Sent me all over creation tryin’ ta find ye. Ye d—

Whiskey splatters across the hall way wall behind the unwanted visitor. The echo of shattering glass bouncing every which way.

            “Oi’ said, feck off ! Oi’ feckin’ left for o'reason! Oi’ll no be o'part o'pretendin’ e'erydin’ be foi'ne! D'at ye be sittin’ in his chair an’ playin’ d'part loi'ke he were ne'er d'ere! An'worse d'at she be lettin’ ye! D'at she be wantin’ ye ta! Ye bo’d be feckin’ all o'er ‘is memory an’ oi’ll no’ be o'part o’ it! Oi’ dunna care what ta feck she wants! She didna take anyd'in’ d'lot o'us moi'ght o'wanted inta o'ccount before so whoi'y should oi’?!”

Silence that rattles and quakes, to the sound track of dripping liquor. But it’s only the briefest of breaks before the storm comes rolling back with a vengeance. A hand that finds the elder man’s shirt. Yanking Michaeline forward only so far over the threshold. Enough there’s no mistaking most of the ruined bottle is swimming in his veins.

           "How long did i’ take, anyway uh?!  D'funeral? Before d'at? Sneakin’ o'round when he were gone?“

He pushes the other away again, hard enough to make the old man shuffle to keep his feet.

           ”Ye tell her oi’ were done when oi’ left. She wants ta talk she can come her feckin’ self. Oi’ dunna take orders from errand boys.“

And the door is slammed shut. Hard enough that the shudder last for breathes after. Because if there is one thing beyond look that Lucas O'Rian inherited from his father it was his fury. More contained, better controlled, lined in angry tears but still there. Just like his da.

Still. Always. There.

#[post via mobile] #[sry if i got michaeline's speech wrong i tried T_T] #damhsagreine #tbd || Michaeline and Luka #tbd || Lugh and Luka #Traveling Soldier || Military AU [ Closed ] #Return to Sender || Answered Asks