[ Those seeking ears are rewarded. Lucius huffs another low chuckle, amused by the naivety of such a question. ]
Are those the only possibilities you can imagine, dear Eridanus? [ His hand shifts in answer, the tip of his thumb's claw pricking at the dip of muscle and bone beneath it. ] I regret to inform you that it's neither. It is hot, like a bed of nails.
[ His smile grows across his face, but at its edges, it turns sharper than before. ]
In death, my fate is the same as any other pledged to the Prince of Pleasure: my soul is captured by His hands, where it exists as nothing more than His eternal plaything. The difference between myself and His less beloved devotees is that I am given a rope with which I may drag myself out.
[ His hand lifts, and in the space between them, he holds up a single finger. ]
A single flicker of the barest satisfaction is all I need. [ It's more than he usually gives away; after all, to reveal the true terms of the bargain is to expose its limitations. And yet, what does Lucius have to fear from his sweet, loyal Eridanus? ] Even an animal might feel it, should it come to that. It makes their soul burn like the furnace of a sun, and by that light, I am able drag myself from the muck of death.
[ A half-formed thought tickles at the back of his mind, not for the first time: What would happen if he instead allowed himself to sink? The same as ever, Lucius discards it as quickly as it comes. After all, there is little point to contemplating something which will never come to pass.
That great claw lowers, tracing again along the glittering tear-streak split through Eridanus' skin. ]
Each time, the prelude to rebirth stretches an unthinkable, torturous eternity. And yet, here I stand, risen and unbroken by a trial tasted by no other.
no subject
Are those the only possibilities you can imagine, dear Eridanus? [ His hand shifts in answer, the tip of his thumb's claw pricking at the dip of muscle and bone beneath it. ] I regret to inform you that it's neither. It is hot, like a bed of nails.
[ His smile grows across his face, but at its edges, it turns sharper than before. ]
In death, my fate is the same as any other pledged to the Prince of Pleasure: my soul is captured by His hands, where it exists as nothing more than His eternal plaything. The difference between myself and His less beloved devotees is that I am given a rope with which I may drag myself out.
[ His hand lifts, and in the space between them, he holds up a single finger. ]
A single flicker of the barest satisfaction is all I need. [ It's more than he usually gives away; after all, to reveal the true terms of the bargain is to expose its limitations. And yet, what does Lucius have to fear from his sweet, loyal Eridanus? ] Even an animal might feel it, should it come to that. It makes their soul burn like the furnace of a sun, and by that light, I am able drag myself from the muck of death.
[ A half-formed thought tickles at the back of his mind, not for the first time: What would happen if he instead allowed himself to sink? The same as ever, Lucius discards it as quickly as it comes. After all, there is little point to contemplating something which will never come to pass.
That great claw lowers, tracing again along the glittering tear-streak split through Eridanus' skin. ]
Each time, the prelude to rebirth stretches an unthinkable, torturous eternity. And yet, here I stand, risen and unbroken by a trial tasted by no other.