[color=#B2ACA9][hr][hr][center][img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/01999948-ba51-77c8-8ee1-c7fc1de3c8d5.webp[/img][/center][hr][hr]
[table][row][cell][center][img]https://64.media.tumblr.com/ff152eb6f9973b140a76539164cbc704/73a708e28f2976f9-76/s1280x1920/a4807d5cdc9ace2d1f2eae8ba1c974df1a265886.gifv[/img][/center][/cell][cell][color=2e2c2c]▅▅▅▅▅▅[/color][/cell][cell][color=2e2c2c]▅▅▅▅▅▅[/color][/cell][cell][right][sub][color=#C56710]𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘳𝘰𝘣𝘪𝘯[/color] 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘦
𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘺
𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘺𝘰𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘺 𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴

𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘵𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨
𝘧𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘺 𝘣𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭
𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘬𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘢 𝘮𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘥𝘰𝘷𝘦

𝘪 𝘯𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘴𝘢𝘧𝘦𝘵𝘺 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦
𝘣𝘪𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘴. 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘺
𝘳𝘢𝘴𝘱 𝘰𝘧 𝘢 𝘭𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘣𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘭𝘦𝘴 𝘮𝘦

𝘳𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘰𝘧 [color=#C56710]𝘺𝘰𝘶[/color][/sub][/right][/cell][/row][/table][hr][hr]
[indent][sub][color=#C56710]Location[/color] - Streets of New Rome
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[indent][/indent][i][color=#878482][color=#A560CD]“Can I tell you something?”[/color] Victor heard in a whisper, hushed under the covers. If he listened intently, he could make out the soft, intermittent breathing of those legionnaires closest to them. The words almost blended into the gentle raucous but it still turned his head, eyes already adjusted to the moonless dark.

[color=#C56710]“Why would you need to ask?”[/color] Victor whispered back. His eyebrows knit, making out the blonde hairs sticking to Nathaniels’ forehead.

In the shadows, he could see Nathaniel’s eye roll. He didn’t need to look down to see the gentle smile tugging his lips. [color=#A560CD]“Humor me?”[/color]

[color=#C56710]“I think you know the answer.”[/color]

[color=#A560CD]“Huuuu-mor. Me.”[/color]

[color=#C56710]“Okay. Yes. You may tell me something.”[/color]

A pause hung between them—scant space that there was. If Victor leaned forward, just an inch, maybe even a centimeter, he’d feel the softness of Nathaniel’s lips. The subtle part, the sticky pull of humid, lingering sweat. His eyes flicked downward, watching the twitch of Nathaniel’s mouth before he felt the rustle of his partner moving until he caught the sudden fall of Nathaniel’s face in the shadows. [color=#A560CD]“I don’t know what I’m doing, Victor,”[/color] Nathaniel mumbled, a glint of something in his eyes, [color=#A560CD]“Gods, demigods, monsters, endless training, sparring, training. What’s at the end of it all? What if I don’t even get to experience all that I’m fighting for?”[/color]

Not for once, Victor didn’t know what to say. So he didn’t. He moved closer, didn’t pause when Nathaniel’s head twitched back to stare at him, until he could feel the other man—the other teen fall into his neck. They lay there until Victor could feel the steadying in Nathaniel’s breath. Until the birds called to the bleeding sky.[/color][/i]

Until the birds keened beyond his window, shadows dancing in the sliver of light slipping past the curtain. Victor laid there, skin hot in the summer air, staring at the dancing light on his ceiling. He rose. He blazed through his morning routine: work out, garden tending, shower, coffee, attempted breakfast, plant watering, ignore dad’s letter, pen to paper, stand by Nate’s grave, out the door.

That morning and subsequent afternoon remained uneventful. Victor milled about the streets of New Rome, unsure of where his feet took him. Summers always felt the hardest without endless essays to grade, classes to prep for, book club books to skim through. Just lengthy days too hot to care for, waiting for festivities and events to draw him out, begrudging typically but still present.

Yet, Victor still wandered listless in the myriad crowds of familiar and passing faces. A few would glance his way, but they’d see a blur in his face, a fleeting curiosity dropped to the ether and Victor would simply move on. He’d stop by the stalls first, then [i]Paradiso[/i], then [i]Huskers[/i], never going in, simply pausing to contemplate the thought. Each time a nagging feeling would wriggle at the back of his mind:

‘He’d get the pizza with every possible meat topping he could fit,’ or, ‘He’d probably start chatting at the bar the second I looked away,’ or, ‘He’d stop by each stall and ask for something... and I’d cave each time.’

Nine years. Nine years, Victor. He paused against a wall, shut his eyes closed to the burning heat that stung his eyes. He could laugh about him one day, make dark jokes about his passing to others, reminisce with Rex even. Then he’d have days like this. Where he’d see a ghost of him everywhere, smiling, waving him onward, pointing and gawking at things they’d have seen or done numerous times before. But they hadn’t. They hadn’t. They hadn’t.

Victor pushed off the stone and ran a hand through his hair as he made his way through the crowds. Maybe he’d catch the last of the sparring or the tail end of the event. Maybe he’d stop hearing the whispers in his ear or the rasp of his laughter in the cacophony. The day couldn’t get worse, could it?
[/indent][right][sub][color=#C56710]Interactions[/color]: N/A[/sub][/right][/color]