and of course, that leads kiera down the same path.
how they should have picked up on augustus acting off. how they should have seen all of the butterflies. how they should have entered the council chamber ten seconds earlier.
... how they saw the start of the book burning and chose to drag an armful of alcohol into the inn. chose to make themself useless with drink.
rather than admit any of it, of course, they scoff and turn away.]
Half of the Grove told him not to do it. Stop blaming yourself that someone else reaped what he sowed.
[For Luca, it's the closest he's gotten to admitting the fate he's been plagued with — to Kiera, at least. Deep down, he knows that if he wanted them to catch on and care, he might have tried to make it that much more obvious. Unfortunately, they don't. And in the second they turn away, they might as well have cut further into the rift between them.
So much for his attempt to not push them away.]
Of course. You're right. [His tone has flattened once more. His posture is stiff.] And now that you have confirmed my well-being, you can leave.
[at the shift in tone, kiera looks back at him. always one step away, one page apart. they used to fit together so well. when they were young, they could practically read one another's thoughts, far more like twins than the eldest caeliuses acted.]
What are you talking about? Clearly, you're not well.
[on one hand, kiera is aware that luca now has a temper fiery enough to rival the beast within. but then again, this feels like it's out of nowhere.]
I've been trying. Do you think I'm secretly blaming you, myself? If you have something you want to tell me, you should actually tell me instead of trying to force me out the door.
[Luca's teeth snap together hard enough to make an audible noise. He'd wince, if his expression weren't already shuttered. Still, there's a visible twitch as his jaw tenses and untenses. He's considering it, at least?
It just doesn't go far enough.]
You of all people know how to read between the lines. If you have somehow lost that ability in the years we've been apart, that is not my fault. [He heads toward the bar. He's polished every glass in the building at least twice, but what's wrong with a third?] I told you what was wrong. You were the one that chose not to pursue it.
[kiera follows him, but at a distance. not ending the conversation, but also not pursuing him like a predator animal. even if she's holding things back, kiera doesn't want to deliberately rile him up. if this didn't feel important, she'd simply cut her losses and leave as he asks.]
You're not any damn good at riddles, Luca. Why don't you run it by me again, or just speak plainly?
[Though he rolls his eyes and balks at having to repeat himself, Luca doesn't quite bite back. Yes, admitting it in the first place had been difficult but... wasn't it better if he got it out in the open?]
Neither Father, nor the priest had to die. There was no need.
kiera stares silently at luca for a long while. they aren't shocked or angry. maybe they once were, but not anymore. they know he hasn't loved them for years.]
Father, I understand. But why, pray tell, do you blame me for the bonfire?
[Luca rounds on her almost instantly. For a heartbreaking second, Luca's face is stretched into something griefstricken. He looks young, like he did when he woke up to the news of so many deaths. He tries his best to pull himself together, but the attempt falls short. He can't change the way his eyes are wide and watery.]
I knew you were a lush, but I did not expect you drank yourself to the point of being stupid. [He marches toward her, planting a hand on her chest and shoving as hard as I can.] Or perhaps you're as conceited as ever, believing the world to revolve around you?
[Another shove.]
It's not you, Kiera Canorus. It was never you. Father did not have to die because I would not have died.
[she doesn't stumble, but doesn't fight back, either. she lets him push her around. at this point, she can't tell if it's because she's worried about him, or scared that his hands might catch fire.
kiera feared luca's flames at first, but once she understood her place in the aurelius family was one of love, that fear melted away. when did she start to be afraid of it again?
probably when, as he said, everything changed. she doesn't know him anymore.]
What does a Phoenix do, Kiera? [Surely she remembers. They'd spent so many hours in the chapel together. They'd sung hymns together. He'd regaled her with stories and old legends, time and time again. If anyone knew the Aurelius legacy better than one of its own, it would be her.]
What do we in Renova revere!? What do we hope for upon death?
[He doesn't give her a chance to answer. In one instant, his free hand — the one that hasn't been shoving her, flies to his throat. There's a corkscrew there, hidden from her and obscured by his repeated assaults. He's quick, and he knows where to strike. The pain would last only a few seconds. The mess would be more of an issue.
Only it doesn't happen. In one second, his hand is flying forward. In the next, a faint gout of flame shoots forward. It singes the span of his throat just barely. More importantly, though, it causes him to drop the weapon.]
Why?! [He hisses his words not to Kiera, but to something else. He places a hand to his head, wincing as another voice calls to him, audible only within his mind.
(Do not flaunt my powers when you know not if they work.)]
I died. [He holds a hand up before they can say more.] I don't know how many times. I have lost track of the "whys" and "whens." Some were my own doing. Others came at the hands of a stranger.
Every time, I have come back. Every time, the Phoenix reminds me that it is not done with me. And if I had been allowed to take the blade meant for me, it would have done the same.
[Luca doesn't have realize his eyes have begun to burn until it's too late. Dampness traces its way down over the round swell of his right cheek.]
He did not need to die. If the Phoenix had only told me it were possible, we would not have needed to be afraid. He would still be here.
[Behind them, that familiar spirit flickers in and out. Has his trademark charismatic smile faded in the slightest? Perhaps.]
[for far too long, kiera continues to simply stare, slack-jawed. any semblance of composure, of coolheaded aloofness, is out the window. she's a child again, terrified that great harm has come to her little-big brother. (it has.) the horror and despair is as plain on her face as any emotion was when she first learned from luca and cyrus and giselle and everyone that it was alright to show them.
of course she thinks of cyrus, bleeding out and choking on poison from the blade intended for his heir. but she also thinks of luca, fighting a castillan agent to the death and losing. luca, murdered in his sleep. luca, so alone and lost and anguished that he takes his own life.
luca, completely alone in the world, while kiera spent their life taking advantage of their position, drunk out of their mind, chasing every pleasure they could find in an effort to block out the pain that they probably could have eased if they'd only tried to face it.
luca, living in this grief and this guilt for nearly ten years.]
Luc... [kiera isn't crying, but their eyes are misty, and their voice quivering.] You didn't know. You couldn't have known. It wasn't your fault.
[Their silence is not wholly unwelcome. The longer she keeps her mouth shut, the less likely it feels that they'll run their mouth, say something stupid. He has opened himself up in his moment, flayed skin and peeled back ribs to expose a part of him that's been scarred again and again. He's vulnerable, and in a way he doesn't know he can trust Kiera to deal with properly.
By some miracle, what they do eventually find in themselves to say... isn't too far off how Luca feels. He knows they don't mean it in that regard, which makes him almost scoff. So close to the truth, but missing it entirely. It isn't like them, but how could they be expected to understand the full gravity of Luca's own situation.]
You're right. [He says it with a strange finality, one that runs counter to the broken chords of his voice just a few seconds prior.] I could not have known. It was not my fault.
[His hand settles above his chest. His fingers clamp down, nails digging through the fabric. If not for the second band over his chest, he might have even broken the skin.]
The Phoenix could have deigned to tell the truth years ago. It could have saved him. Instead, it sat idly in my mind until it was forced to act. [He shakes his head.] It doesn't care. Not for its scions. Not for its people. All it wants is pawns to act in its stead.
No more. I'll rip it out if I have to. And then I can finally rest.
[they should have realized this before. maybe it can be chalked up to them not being quite so emotionally distraught over anything in... just about eight years. which they'll likely beat themselves up over later, but right now...
all they can think of for the moment is how much they owe the phoenix. it welcomed them into its home despite their working for its enemy. eventually, its love for them burned so bright that the butterfly's influence was charred away entirely. after being reared to praise a beast so cruel, they found warmth and solace in a god that valued them as they were. kiera had come to love the phoenix with all their heart.
... but that was all a lie, too, they're realizing for the first time. the phoenix doesn't even care for its own blessed beyond his usefulness to it. why the hell would it care about them?]
So they are all the same. [they murmur, quiet, after a long moment of shock. and yet... the last thing luca says sends a shiver up their spine.]
[Wrapped up in his own grief as he is, Luca doesn't really consider what Kiera might be going through. He can't, when he isn't so privy to her thoughts. He'd watched her come around to the prospect, recalled her voice eventually joining his in the hymns they sang. But the war she'd waged to get there? The grief she might feel?
It's all hard to process, considering his own feelings.
Admittedly, he does catch her words, but he doesn't have the inclination to ask about them, not just yet. He is more occupied with her current question. And while he can't know the journey she's gone through to accept the Phoenix, he knows with some certainty that she's amongst its faithful.
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no subject
and of course, that leads kiera down the same path.
how they should have picked up on augustus acting off. how they should have seen all of the butterflies. how they should have entered the council chamber ten seconds earlier.
... how they saw the start of the book burning and chose to drag an armful of alcohol into the inn. chose to make themself useless with drink.
rather than admit any of it, of course, they scoff and turn away.]
Half of the Grove told him not to do it. Stop blaming yourself that someone else reaped what he sowed.
no subject
So much for his attempt to not push them away.]
Of course. You're right. [His tone has flattened once more. His posture is stiff.] And now that you have confirmed my well-being, you can leave.
no subject
What are you talking about? Clearly, you're not well.
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You would rather offer me platitudes than comfort. You would rather cover your ears and not listen to what I have to say.
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I've been trying. Do you think I'm secretly blaming you, myself? If you have something you want to tell me, you should actually tell me instead of trying to force me out the door.
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[Luca's teeth snap together hard enough to make an audible noise. He'd wince, if his expression weren't already shuttered. Still, there's a visible twitch as his jaw tenses and untenses. He's considering it, at least?
It just doesn't go far enough.]
You of all people know how to read between the lines. If you have somehow lost that ability in the years we've been apart, that is not my fault. [He heads toward the bar. He's polished every glass in the building at least twice, but what's wrong with a third?] I told you what was wrong. You were the one that chose not to pursue it.
no subject
You're not any damn good at riddles, Luca. Why don't you run it by me again, or just speak plainly?
no subject
Neither Father, nor the priest had to die. There was no need.
no subject
kiera stares silently at luca for a long while. they aren't shocked or angry. maybe they once were, but not anymore. they know he hasn't loved them for years.]
Father, I understand. But why, pray tell, do you blame me for the bonfire?
no subject
I knew you were a lush, but I did not expect you drank yourself to the point of being stupid. [He marches toward her, planting a hand on her chest and shoving as hard as I can.] Or perhaps you're as conceited as ever, believing the world to revolve around you?
[Another shove.]
It's not you, Kiera Canorus. It was never you. Father did not have to die because I would not have died.
no subject
kiera feared luca's flames at first, but once she understood her place in the aurelius family was one of love, that fear melted away. when did she start to be afraid of it again?
probably when, as he said, everything changed. she doesn't know him anymore.]
... What the fuck are you talking about, Luca?
cw: attempted self-harm
What do we in Renova revere!? What do we hope for upon death?
[He doesn't give her a chance to answer. In one instant, his free hand — the one that hasn't been shoving her, flies to his throat. There's a corkscrew there, hidden from her and obscured by his repeated assaults. He's quick, and he knows where to strike. The pain would last only a few seconds. The mess would be more of an issue.
Only it doesn't happen. In one second, his hand is flying forward. In the next, a faint gout of flame shoots forward. It singes the span of his throat just barely. More importantly, though, it causes him to drop the weapon.]
Why?! [He hisses his words not to Kiera, but to something else. He places a hand to his head, wincing as another voice calls to him, audible only within his mind.
(Do not flaunt my powers when you know not if they work.)]
cw: attempted suicide
then luca moves, too quickly for her to react. she sees all of the movements, but luca stops himself before she can. the phoenix stops him.
her jaw drops.
a phoenix burns, then rises from the ashes.
and luca... luca, she's fairly certain, just tried to fatally wound himself, just to prove a point.
the next words out of her mouth are pitiful, quiet, trembling with emotion and fear. she hates every moment of it.]
Luca, what happened to you?
cw: attempted suicide
Every time, I have come back. Every time, the Phoenix reminds me that it is not done with me. And if I had been allowed to take the blade meant for me, it would have done the same.
[Luca doesn't have realize his eyes have begun to burn until it's too late. Dampness traces its way down over the round swell of his right cheek.]
He did not need to die. If the Phoenix had only told me it were possible, we would not have needed to be afraid. He would still be here.
[Behind them, that familiar spirit flickers in and out. Has his trademark charismatic smile faded in the slightest? Perhaps.]
cw: suicide
of course she thinks of cyrus, bleeding out and choking on poison from the blade intended for his heir. but she also thinks of luca, fighting a castillan agent to the death and losing. luca, murdered in his sleep. luca, so alone and lost and anguished that he takes his own life.
luca, completely alone in the world, while kiera spent their life taking advantage of their position, drunk out of their mind, chasing every pleasure they could find in an effort to block out the pain that they probably could have eased if they'd only tried to face it.
luca, living in this grief and this guilt for nearly ten years.]
Luc... [kiera isn't crying, but their eyes are misty, and their voice quivering.] You didn't know. You couldn't have known. It wasn't your fault.
cw: suicide
By some miracle, what they do eventually find in themselves to say... isn't too far off how Luca feels. He knows they don't mean it in that regard, which makes him almost scoff. So close to the truth, but missing it entirely. It isn't like them, but how could they be expected to understand the full gravity of Luca's own situation.]
You're right. [He says it with a strange finality, one that runs counter to the broken chords of his voice just a few seconds prior.] I could not have known. It was not my fault.
[His hand settles above his chest. His fingers clamp down, nails digging through the fabric. If not for the second band over his chest, he might have even broken the skin.]
The Phoenix could have deigned to tell the truth years ago. It could have saved him. Instead, it sat idly in my mind until it was forced to act. [He shakes his head.] It doesn't care. Not for its scions. Not for its people. All it wants is pawns to act in its stead.
No more. I'll rip it out if I have to. And then I can finally rest.
no subject
all they can think of for the moment is how much they owe the phoenix. it welcomed them into its home despite their working for its enemy. eventually, its love for them burned so bright that the butterfly's influence was charred away entirely. after being reared to praise a beast so cruel, they found warmth and solace in a god that valued them as they were. kiera had come to love the phoenix with all their heart.
... but that was all a lie, too, they're realizing for the first time. the phoenix doesn't even care for its own blessed beyond his usefulness to it. why the hell would it care about them?]
So they are all the same. [they murmur, quiet, after a long moment of shock. and yet... the last thing luca says sends a shiver up their spine.]
What are you getting at?
no subject
It's all hard to process, considering his own feelings.
Admittedly, he does catch her words, but he doesn't have the inclination to ask about them, not just yet. He is more occupied with her current question. And while he can't know the journey she's gone through to accept the Phoenix, he knows with some certainty that she's amongst its faithful.
Which means she won't like what he has to say.]
I plan to kill it. At any cost.