[ fairies had plucked him from the boat and had dropped him in this odd afterlife where he has too many chances to atone for what he had done in his own past life. luke takes every chance he has, stealing the opportunities as he does with odd knickknacks to quench his own restlessness, but as quickly as he leaps toward seeking forgiveness, he purposefully trips himself over in the process. his knees are scraped and his palms are cut, the lifelines as severed as his own life string. it's no different with annabeth before him, hoping to see her hand strike his cheek while he desires it to be soft and tentative around his wrist, her own fingers searching for that pulse of his as annabeth chase is never quite happy until she locates the evidence for herself. ]
[ good things don't happen to luke castellan; annabeth looking at him as though he's the boy she remembers isn't a good thing in his world. he searches for that hatred he knows she must feel, wishing to see it darken her grey eyes and see to it she flares into a burning ball of anger. it's easier to deal with the punches than any sort of softness, his mind returning back to how she had seemed so tired when she had arrived here, perhaps merely letting him shift back into the role as caretaker as she had been too exhausted to slap him away, taking to him as he had been the only one at the feast who knew how to take care of her while even in his sleep — or even possessed by a titan. but she stands tall, limbs sharp, and her voice even more as her unspoken words take to lashing out against him as if it were a dragon's claw. ]
[ his smile falters; drabwurld isn't a bad place to get lost in unless she's stuck with only him. a part of him wishes to act petulantly and kill any growing desire and hope she may have that percy's within this realm, having travelled from the streets of manhattan to dip further than the underworld in his merry adventures of heroism. but it's annabeth — so he falters in his own self-loathing, preferring to lash out at himself than at her. an invisible hand tries to push her away. ] Yeah. [ his tone hardens. ] I'm alone. Your boyfriend's somewhere around, though. Probably swimming with the fishes. [ is it lost on luke what that idiom means? no; even in it's altered state, coming from him, it's almost a threat, despite being hollow and one he doesn't even wish to make. while he knows he's not the kid she may remember, so bent by his hatred and anger for the gods and the world itself, intent to see it burn as he stands, unburnt, in the very centre, there's the urge to step back into those shoes in a bid to push her away. he's not who she's looking for. he doubts he ever really has been. ]
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[ good things don't happen to luke castellan; annabeth looking at him as though he's the boy she remembers isn't a good thing in his world. he searches for that hatred he knows she must feel, wishing to see it darken her grey eyes and see to it she flares into a burning ball of anger. it's easier to deal with the punches than any sort of softness, his mind returning back to how she had seemed so tired when she had arrived here, perhaps merely letting him shift back into the role as caretaker as she had been too exhausted to slap him away, taking to him as he had been the only one at the feast who knew how to take care of her while even in his sleep — or even possessed by a titan. but she stands tall, limbs sharp, and her voice even more as her unspoken words take to lashing out against him as if it were a dragon's claw. ]
[ his smile falters; drabwurld isn't a bad place to get lost in unless she's stuck with only him. a part of him wishes to act petulantly and kill any growing desire and hope she may have that percy's within this realm, having travelled from the streets of manhattan to dip further than the underworld in his merry adventures of heroism. but it's annabeth — so he falters in his own self-loathing, preferring to lash out at himself than at her. an invisible hand tries to push her away. ] Yeah. [ his tone hardens. ] I'm alone. Your boyfriend's somewhere around, though. Probably swimming with the fishes. [ is it lost on luke what that idiom means? no; even in it's altered state, coming from him, it's almost a threat, despite being hollow and one he doesn't even wish to make. while he knows he's not the kid she may remember, so bent by his hatred and anger for the gods and the world itself, intent to see it burn as he stands, unburnt, in the very centre, there's the urge to step back into those shoes in a bid to push her away. he's not who she's looking for. he doubts he ever really has been. ]