Olympus of Desire - Jaesung (NCT Greek Mythology AU)

~Chapter 12 | Theosevís~

Lucas was no fool.

He was certainly no oracle, nor a saint, nor even a proclaimed sinner. But he was no fool.

There was clearly something amiss in the dark of this stranger's eyes, and he needed to find it and expose it. And by Zeus's power alone was he going to do it.

That was a risky thing in itself, daring to swear dedication to Zeus and Zeus alone, for the god was known to greatly punish any who claimed to worship him alone and strayed from doing so.

But Lucas wasn't going to stray. No matter how much this stranger tested his patience, he wouldn't be calling upon Athena's wisdom, nor Artemis's cunning. They came from Zeus's blood, so he was capable of anything they were and more.

Even if that costed him his sanity.

"Start again at 'my temple' will you?" He crossed his arms, teetering a headache, as the stranger outright refused to clean himself in the bathing chambers Lucas had lead him to. "You should have no issue if this truly were your place of residence."

"You miss the point, apostle," Lucas cringed at the newly appointed title. "I do not concern myself with mortal instruments."

"The guards will spear you if you defile their presence like this again," he rubs his temples, before meeting the man's eyes once more. "I'm merely attempting to spare you the humiliation of bleeding out during the prince's coronation."

"Coronation?" The stranger quirked his head, that untelling haze never leaving his eyes. "Games are being conducted today?"

"They begin tomorrow," Lucas keeps his glare minimal, "but the nations gathered today. You should know this considering you claim to be a vessel of Zeus." He narrows his eyes. "I don't take those claims lightly."

The stranger stood quietly, head so gently tilted to the side, warm orange strands falling gracefully over his eyes. In his eyes rested calculation, cunning, a soul searching for an answer he was on the cusp of finding. Then at once, softly, all aggravation void from his voice, he breathed life back into the stagnant air.

"You're not like the others."

His eyes trailed very slowly along Lucas's frame, and he could do nothing but stand and be observed, left to wonder what was it was that made it seem like his very soul was being gazed upon.

The man cast his head back, a quieter look of judgement resting on the bridge of his nose, as shadows cast along the smooth skin of his face. "You've maintained your vow."

Lucas blinked, brows inclining just enough to show his uneasy agreement. "I intend to keep my word, yes. As for yourself?"

"I do not give vows," he states, statue still, and Lucas isn't even sure he can notice if breath was leaving his lips. "I listen to them."

Lucas inhaled, very softly, and allowed his arms to fall to his side. "Are you an oracle?" He blinks. "A prophet?"

The man shakes his head, though relent sits on his tongue. "I do suppose those are the closest thing in this world, aren't they." He takes a step closer, calculating. "But do not refer to me as that. I would rather be a mere human than to be compared to the soothsayers who cannot speak without a cursed tongue."

"What should I call you, then?" The air felt thick around this moment, as if the very breath used to ask the question begged for an answer. "I assume the title of stranger no longer begets your presence."

Pondering swam across the warm color of his eyes, gilded by the orange glow of his hair, catching the fleeting sunlight as if each strand were made of the sun itself. "You know my name."