Arcana | Kung Lao

III

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Synopsis: Kung Lao and Nico are struck with crises of faith...
Warning(s): Explicit language, graphic death, blood, violence, gore, possible smut(?) more to be added in series...
Note: Things got a little off track with this one but I kind of enjoyed the mess too much to rewrite? So yeah forgive me in advance, next chapter will be better because it'll be the actual chapter I intended this one to be lol.
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In a week's passing, Nico trained from the crack of dawn to dusk. Kung Lao had a strict regimen. Nico leaned into it with an open mind. Well, he tried as best he could. While he excelled in the fight pit, he failed to get in touch with his spirituality. To overcome his fears and control his mysterious arcana.

After a week of trying, Kung Lao allowed Nico a day's break in his training. Well earned, in his eyes. On both their parts. It wasn't easy guarding someone like Nico so closely. Not when his mission conflicted his beliefs. He felt like a liar every time he looked into Nico's eyes.

He needed a day to put his mind at rest. So before the sun rose, he went to Raiden's altar and began to pray. To any God that would hear him. He asked for strength in his time of confusion. Strength to believe in his current path.

Nico had grown accustomed to their schedule. For someone like him, a good routine was everything. Since going cold turkey on all of his medications, he'd been less stable. Though his diagnosis was wrong, he feared the cocktail may have helped with his anxiety. He could've used all the help in the world those days.

Thankfully, he had Kung Lao. Someone to keep him occupied. Constant supervision, really. It seemed they hadn't spent a moment apart since his rescue. Even more so with training.

While their relationship started out on rather peculiar terms, Nico had grown to like Kung Lao. His unrelenting faith no longer peeved Nico. Of course he had his moments, but Nico began to see it as Kung Lao's most endearing quality. His ability to have faith, even with all they were facing, that they'd come out on the other side.

Nico wished he could believe in something so strongly. In anything. He just didn't have it in him. Hope was a different type of punishment for him. Every time his wounds numbed enough for him to forget the pain, the universe reminded him with a fierce lash.

He rubbed his hand on the dusty pillar at the fight-pit's entrance. He turned his palm so he could examine it. His eyes flickering with disbelief. Only for a moment. It was still a sight to adjust to.

He rarely saw his own hands outside of the bathroom. Showers and such required as much. As part of his training, however, Kung Lao thought it necessary for him to live without gloved hands. Nico hated him for it the first half of the week, but near the week's end he relished in the opportunity to reintroduce his nerves to touch and all its textures.