coquere
⋆ lucien would rarely dream. it had always been like this, ever since he was a child. yet now he’s plagued by visions of dark caverns and shadowed figures, chains clinking and the echoes of screams far away. sometimes he’s the one in the chair, heat and raw pain blooming across one cheek, blood dribbling down his chin. sometimes it’s another man, taller and broader but /always/ recognisable, his hair fallen from its ponytail, bruised and bleeding yet infinitely defiant. as much as lucien fought, he would always lose, beaten into the ground, and it would always end with [father] limp in the dirt, slumped against a wall, crimson eyes blank and unseeing — - heat burns through his body, radiating from skin sticky with perspiration, tears falling unrestrained from closed eyes as he struggles unconsciously against firm hands, trapped in delirium, crying out for [father, please no, don’t die, d̲o̲n̲’̲t̲ ̲l̲e̲a̲v̲e̲ ̲m̲e̲ ̲a̲l̲o̲n̲e̲,] thrashing in silken sheets against a nonexistent adversary. the dreams eat at him, threatening to overwhelm, to consume — - ( f͟a͟t͟h͟e͟r͟ ͟i͟n͟ ͟t͟r͟o͟u͟b͟l͟e͟ ͟f͟a͟t͟h͟e͟r͟ ͟s͟t͟i͟l͟l͟ ͟a͟n͟d͟ ͟u͟n͟m͟o͟v͟i͟n͟g͟ ͟F͟A͟T͟H͟E͟R͟ ͟N͟E͟V͟E͟R͟ ͟G͟E͟T͟T͟I͟N͟G͟ ͟U͟P͟ ͟A͟G͟A͟I͟N͟..) but then all at once, his eyes snap open and he shoots upright with a gasp. the first thing he does is look around him, looking and searching unaware and uncaring of his environment because the most important thing to him right now is to find /father/, make sure he's there and he's safe, in his panic he nearly falls. but that was simply testament to the desperation with which he wished to know his father was alright. ⋆
coquere
⋆ it is night. it is night and it is dark and the room is cast in a wash of dark shadow. in his terror lucien does not see his father, he only sees a /figure/ making its way towards him and it is dark and he can't make out their face and a hand grips his and his mind is sent into overdrive. he struggles, heart beating fast and hard against his ribcage, eyes blown wide yet unseeing, and it's a while before the ringing in his ears subsides and he takes notice of that warm voice that drags him back to reality. it's familiar and grounds him, and gradually his panic begins to subside. his eyes adjust to the darkness and he could now make out the shape of his father, of his crimson gaze, concerned and loving, alive and breathing and /here/, and he instinctively wraps his arms tight around the elder. ⋆ .. father. you're here — - you're o͟k͟a͟y͟ .. ? ⋆ while he may be legally an adult, here he is still a boy. just a boy with his father, free of danger, relieved and apologetic and so, so s͟o͟r͟r͟y͟, and he feels like a small child again as he's enveloped in the steady warmth that is /father/. ⋆
exknights
@coquere diluc could not bring himself to leave the boy's side. he did not want to leave him alone. too paranoid that he might vanish again. too worried that something might happen while his back is turned. too scared lucien may need him when he is not there. so he stays. and now, it is night again. it is dark outside and it is dark in the room, as well. there's a chair in the corner and that is where diluc is. arms crossed. head hanging. his own sleep is dreamless and light. it is hard to dream when you are drifting in and out of consciousness, after all. at least that worked in his favor when panicked breathing soon filled the silence of the bedroom. diluc awoke and rose to his feet quickly, eyes squinting in the darkness. "lucien?" he would call out as he carefully approached his son's bed, reaching to hold one of his hands in his own. "lucien... hey, it's alright- everything is alright... shh... it's okay." diluc did what he could, attempting to soothe the younger man.
