In place of the fire that Eridanus had commanded before, another, familiar furnace burns within him. He feels the torrent of it beneath his skin, the way it sings in the ears that peel back and lay flat against his skull like an agitated cat. It's in whip of his tail, that cuts through the air like the keen edge of a sword, and the subtle twitch of his clawsâonce again shimmering in opalescence and sharped into obsidian razor blades. He feels the insidious pull of his anger, and so fresh is it in his pulse that he cannot hide the way his lips peel back, baring his daggered teeth up at Lucius like a feral beast.]
And you think I have forgiven you for mistrusting me? [He hisses the words from between clenched teeth, his shoulders screaming with the tension that raises them to his ears.]
You have no idea what I endured in nothingness! A consciousness barely suspended like a horrifying nightmare I could not escape â simply endure. [He pants with rage, breath hot on his lips. His anger is a familiar, embracing comfort,] and you think I will jump into your arms like a gleeful whore returning to her Lord? I have more pride than that, Lucius.
No? And in that nothingness, did you not yearn for me? Did you not ache to feel the cradle of my arms, offering you their comfort in death? [ Eridanus coils like a feral beast, and in answer, Lucius only steps forward. At his sides, his arms do not lowerâbut now, chin tilted up, the posture seems abruptly one of challenge rather than the beckoning of an embrace. ]
There is nothing to be forgiven, Eridanus, [ he declares, the words low and absolute in their surety. ] You may be something far more precious than a mere whore, but I am your lord. The moment you pledged yourself to me, you surrendered all of yourself to my whims â or have you forgotten? Your life, and your death â all that you are is mine, to be given or taken as I please.
Besides, [ he says, and his tone shifts, light as the step he takes away, ] you shouldn't complain to me of endurance in death. I've heard talk of what death is like in this realm, and it is nothing.
[Like the push and pull of an ocean tideâas Lucius steps closer, Eridanus shrinks back. Yet it isn't in fear, despite the fact that he had been killed only days prior.
The gaze he affixes the other with is nothing short of defiant. It's calculatingâas if assessing every twitch of muscle and fluid movement for an opening, or weakness. There are none though, and even in the meager flesh of the Fog, as ornamented as it is to look akin to Lucius' true hide, he is still the perfect swordsman. At his own sides, the muscles of his arms bulge through the thin fabric of his dirt and blood-smeared shirt; through the stomach, cut open to reveal the swath of chiseled flesh beneath, peeks a thick opal vein where he had been gutted.
Then, with a bestial huff, he lowers his shoulders. His claws are no longer splayed, ready to attack. He stares up at Lucius pensively,] and you were fine with being without me, then? [Eridanus pauses, and with a deep inhale of breath he steps forwards. His viridescent eyes remain on Lucius' face, unblinking, until they are so close that he can feel the warmth that demon-flesh radiates.]
I am not some toy to be disposed of. I am not some menial wretch that will endure abuse with no cause. I am Champion, and you will respect me â or kill me for good.
Indeed, you are. [ And perhaps he ought to break Eridanus under his heel, to remind him of just where a Champion's place lies beneath the man he serves. The sight of Eridanus proud and unbowed stirs something within his blood; the familiar intermingling of lust for blood and desire for him fills his mouth with its taste, its intoxicating flavor all the more potent for the fact that this moment is no flirtatious duel. His tongue slithers between his teeth and licks over his lips, and with Eridanus drawn so close, Lucius cannot stop the way one of his clawed hands lifts in answer.
Even in this facsimile of his original flesh, its claws cannot pass easily through the stone of Eridanus' skin. His touch bears down hard as fingers settle against the back of his neck, and perhaps Lucius will just have to content himself with the welting of unbroken skin as his touch drags itself upward with the thirst to gouge meat from bone. ]
That is why you should already understand how indispensable you are. [ His fingers bear along the opal that encases his consort's jaw, even with no skin there to claw at all. ] There are fates worse than death, my dear, beloved Archmage. What I chose was the best way to protect us both from that reality.
[ His thumb slots beneath Eridanus' chin, holding his jaw tight within the crook of his palm. ] Try to think as I do, Eridanus â as a man for whom death has meant nothing for ten-thousand years. Can you not see the calculation behind my blade?
[The threat of those dark, pearlescent claws shivers through Eridanus, pricking his stone-skin in gooseflesh that almost seems out of character for its density. Only mere days have passed, where he hasn't felt the pressure and warmth of Lucius' overbearing touch, but it doesn't stop the desperate yearning that unfurls through his breast and quickens his heart. A flush unlike the ruddy hue of his previous hide colors his cheeks, but the way his body readily responds to the manipulation of his consort's overlarge hand doesn't reach his expression. Even in the tensed air between them, his sharp eyes remain leveled upwards in haughty disobedience.]
Protect us, or protect yourself? [Pulse thunders in his ears as his eyes narrow into predatory slits. His weathered visage pinches with growing rage, but even with a jerk of his chin, Eridanus cannot tear himself from the claws that grasp himâthe strength the fog lends Lucius currently greater than his own.]
If I am such a weakness for you, perhaps I will do you the favor of keeping my distance.
[Despite the words roused with his anger, he feels the way his stomach ties itself into knotsâa quagmire of emotion that readily pulls him down into the inescapable muck. To be without Lucius for even a second is torture, and yet, the man himself seems completely unbothered. Perhaps he is more replaceable than he previously thoughtâthe mere thought of which sickens him.]
[ He idea of Eridanus, a man who couldn't even bear to be apart from him for a handful of days, doing as he threatens is laughableâso much so that Lucius nearly does laugh. Were he to walk out that door now, Lucius would expect him back within the day. It barely deserves more than the time it would take to reply that Eridanus won'tâbut, for as cute as this kittenish defiance is, if he is going to persist in it, Lucius really does need to bring his foot down and quash it into the dirt below.
His hand drops from Eridanus' jawâdown to his neck, claw-fingers settling around his throat as the firm cage of a collar. ]
Must I remind you where a Champion's place lies? [ His smile tightens, and so does his grip, touch drawing stricter around his throat with each passing word. ] A Champion remains at his Lord's side â with unwavering loyalty, in good or in ill. If you intend to betray such a simple commandment, perhaps I ought to do as you say.
[ And then that hand releases Eridanus, and Lucius steps back, smile returned to idle playfulness as if anything besides had been a mere mirage. ]
Now do you want the Lucid Dream returned to your hip or not?
[Fingers draw tight over his throat, and immediately the venom that had coursed through his veins, dies out. In it's place is the sweet sensation of asphyxiation, a pleasure and pain at once, but in this moment it isn't one he welcomes. Fresh from the grave, the thought of dying once more races his heart, blows his eyes wide, with his pupils dilating until they're rimmed by a thin circle of green. His lungs burn for air, and his mouth gapes with desperate pulls for it.
His defiance no doubt warrants death, he knows it doesâso when that hand finally loosens its grip on his neck, Eridanus doesn't continue to bare his fangs like a minatory beast. Between gasping breaths, he grabs his own throat and rubs over the tender column of aching flesh.]
I want it, [he rasps, some remnants of anger and pride still edged into his quiet tone.]
But, it is because of my loyalty that I am so angered, Lucius.
[ With that answerâprickled with defiant edges as it may beâLucius turns, and he begins to move farther into their home. He has kept the Lucid Dream at their bedside, of course; when Eridanus' voice interrupts his passage, he lolls his head in a glance over his shoulder. ]
Eridanus, you may take my word for it when I say that you missed nothing worth being alive for. [ The playful verve disappears from his tone, and what's left hovers somewhere between exasperated and tired. ] If you believe I could have been blindly trusted in such circumstances, you truly are a fool â and you certainly wouldn't have been any happier if I merely turned you away to fend for yourself.
[ And, in truth, Lucius would have felt far worse. To say that the thought of Eridanus reduced to a mere puppet disturbs him, however, is to admit to far too much attachmentâand, as usual, as long as Lucius doesn't entertain the thought, it isn't real. ]
Would it not be better to simply celebrate your return instead of this? [ He heaves a sigh, heavy and theatrical. ] And after I awaited you so eagerly, too.
[The words are hopeful, the sound of them trailing behind Lucius a few paces. If he turns, he'll see Eridanus standing there, his stride interrupted by the promise of the answer he seeks; and as his wide eyes search that scarified face, he nearly stands on the balls of his feet with bated breath. Even he hadn't parsed the source of his upset prior to returning home, and yet, when the words escaped his throat, it all made sense.]
When I was alone with what little consciousness I had, all I could imagine is that you see me as nothing more than a hinderance. [His chin lowers, and suddenly he tears his gaze away from Lucius. His tongue feels far too big for his mouth,] the thought of being cast aside by you, cleaved through my very soul. You seemed almost relieved to be without me.
[And that was it, wasn't it? Eridanus' brow furrows as he crosses his arms. So selfish is his desire, that he wishes Lucius to suffer just as he does when they are apart. He wishes Lucius to feel something for his deathâto not just wear that comfortable smile that seems forever etched into his visage.]
[ Lucius does stop walking, and he does turn. As Eridanus wished, the comfortable smile is gone; in its place, the waxen mask of his face is drawn into an expression of utter exasperation. ]
Do you truly think that, Eridanus? [ The words are so flat that they nearly cease to be a question. ] Even now, when I've been more permissive of your defiance than I would any other man who calls me "Lord"? [ He scoffs out a sound that manages some amusement, and some wry humor makes its way back to his tone as he says, ] It's good that I don't have feelings for you to hurt. I'd be devastated, otherwise.
[ After Eridanus had been the one to recoil from his touch, after Lucius has already said he wants to return the blade that stands as the mark of fealty between them, after everything he has said about what a special place Eridanus holds within his worldâbut if he stands here and thinks about it, he truly will become irritated. He turns again, and steps forward. ]
Enough of this. [ The wane humor in his voice has already withered away to nothing once more. ] I did not cast you aside anymore than I cast aside my own life when I use Slaanesh's gift to take a ship or a stronghold from within. Or does every other moment that has passed between us mean nothing to you?
[Where Eridanus stands, he nearly shrinks beneath those chastising words. How foolish he is, to not believe wholeheartedly in his Eternal. Behind the jealous guard of his opal maw, his lips press into a thin, insecure line. One of his daggered claws reaches up, idly tracing down the length of one tear-streak scar as the other grips at the ripped fabric of his tattered shirt. His stomach twists, and suddenly guilt casts his once-again pallid features a rosy color.]
N-No, my Lord, [he mumbles quietly, his his gaze downcast and averted,] every moment between us has coalesced and become my entire world... perhaps I am just... shaken from the entire ordeal.
[With the shame of a dog tucking his tail between his legs, Eridanus strides forward in meek steps. He still keeps his eyes lowered, his head bowed, with his ears peeled back. The hand that had found purchase, curled into the fabric of his own shirt, instead reaches out in blind seeking of Lucius' overlarge hand.]
[ In the moment that pleading hand seeks his own, thoughts of Fulgrim rise unbidden in Lucius' mind. Never before has Lucius ruled over a man with loveâbut that is precisely how the primarch of the Emperor's Children had presided over them, he and his brothers crushed beneath the tyranny of their own adoration. Their father wielded it as a virtuoso violinist wields his instrument, love given as swiftly as it might be snatched from the eyes of a man proven unworthyâand there were always men to be rendered unworthy in the light of his brothers' accomplishments.
Lucius' clawed fingers wrap around a hand rendered small by his current skin, and as they reach the doorway to their shared bedroom, Lucius spins Eridanus through its arch with that grip. Love feels more like a cudgel in his grip than the keen-edged dagger Fulgrim had made it seem to beâan imperfection that his father, of course, lacked. ]
Only once.
[ With that declaration, his hands find the remnants of Eridanus' suit. The top half is dirty and torn, and seeing as there's little point in treating an already ruined garment gently, he divests Eridanus of it with a simple tear down its middle. Sharp eyes rake his consort's bare flesh as he pushes the cloth from his shoulders, and as they linger over scars carved into his body by Lucius' own bladeâold and new, rendered again in the glittering lines that suit the significance they bearâhis tongue dances between his lips as if it were a serpent posed to strike.
He has to lower himself for the bottom half, and so he drops into a crouch possessed less of the air of a man taking a knee and more of one doing what he wishes with what belongs to him. The belt, at least, is intact, and so it receives somewhat more respectful treatment than the top half had. ]
[That overlarge hand is truly all the answer he needs, and yet, the moment they are within their bedroom, Lucius gives his assurance through words as well. They shiver through Eridanus, pricking his shoulders and back with a gooseflesh that is partly excitement and partly the cold swathing his skin as that tattered cloth is torn from his form and tossed aside. Hooded eyes gaze up at Lucius, indulging in the way his mouth splits and needle-teeth are framed by a haunting lipless grin.
But then they blow wide as Lucius drops down before him, and behind him, Eridanus' tail straightens nearly upwards with surprise. A sound, somewhere between shock and anticipation, wells up from his throat. Overlarge claws make for his belt, and rather than assist those dexterous points, he settles his own hands over the backs of his consort's.]
What manner of ritual is this? [He can't help from asking, especially when he assumed he would simply have his sword returned to him.
Perhaps the clothing is a reminder, or perhaps its sullied state was offensiveâEridanus didn't have the answers, and really, he didn't even care for them. Sooner than later, his trousers are dropped around his ankles, leaving him in nothing more than his underwear and the loosed shirt-stays still strapped around his thighs.]
Your silence is utterly provocative, my Eternal...
[ With the question, that overlong tongue clicks against the roof of his mouth. ]
If you're going to insist on forgetting your place, I'll have you utterly bare to remind you of it. [ It's light, so far as punishments goâbut, even so, nudity comes along with a particular vulnerability, befitting of a man who lives and dies at Lucius' discretion.
And, of course, he does mean utterly. The underwear and shirt-stays are undone along with the rest, and as Lucius rises again to look down upon his work, a lightness returns to the set of his shoulders as well. ]
If you understand where it is you belong, kneel down to accept it.
[ The Lucid Dream deserves more than an unceremonious change of hands, regardless. ]
[The only sound that escapes him is a soft, shuddering breath as his eyes meet those of his Lord. Stripped bare, there is nothing to hide him from that unrelenting gaze that threatens to pierce through his very soul. Just the weight of it alone feels as if it's enough to shred his fragile flesh from boneâand like the devotee he is, Eridanus bows his head beneath Lucius' generosity.]
Of course, my Eternal.
[As he speaks, he bends down with only a stutter of movement, dropping onto his knees before Lucius. Like pulling on an old glove, he finds his place cowed at his consort's hooves easily; and from below, he returns his gaze upwards, fixing the hulking figure above him with familiar, venerating eyes.]
[ Any remnant of defiance or uncertainty peels away with the last of Eridanus' clothes, and as he humbly lowers himself to the demure posture of a supplicant, whatever ill-temper had lingered with Lucius vanishes as well. Though this ritual is new, its weight settles over them as easily as a drama rehearsed a thousand times before; Lucius draws a breath as if its gravity might fill his very lungs, and as Eridanus turns that worshipful gaze upward, Lucius brings a hand to his skull. Fingers thread into the hair at his nape, already loose and disheveled, as his claw-thumb drags along the opal freshly grown over his jaw.
It's precisely the monstrous face had has missed in the past monthsâalmost too much so, in fact. Quiet seconds pass between them, and only then does Lucius recognize the tear track scars he had rended into Eridanus' cheeks a month before. Half-covered, half-lost among the clutter of tusks and second eyes, despite their new glittering shade, they don't stand out on his troll-skin in the same way they had upon the face where they were first placed. What was once the pad of his thumb rubs against Eridanus' cheek, as if the rest might simply be cleared awayâbut, of course, nothing rearranges itself for his touch.
A heartbeat's disappointment settles over himâbut then he realizes that he might simply use the opportunity to make this reunion between all the more special, and his eyes widen with sudden light. He steps back to retrieve the Lucid Dream from where it has been respectfully left at Eridanus' bedside; when he stands before Eridanus again, however, he draws it from its sheath himself. It's small in his hand, but he acclimated himself to that unfortunate reality, and he hardly notices as much as his free hand comes forth to cup Eridanus beneath his chin and tilt his head back. ]
Did you notice, Eridanus? [ The words are a sigh, breathy with his own anticipation. ] No, I suppose you can't now. This skin hides it, but I thought that moment between us deserved to be immortalized on my flesh.
[ Meaning that Eridanus has been allowed to leave his mark on him twice nowâalbeit in a more indirect way, this time. ]
[With an obedience nurtured over a time that feels akin to centuries rather than mere months, Eridanus leans into every touch of Lucius' claws as if they were life-giving. The way they curl at the base of his skull, the way a thumb traces over the unfeeling ridge of sparkling opal that has consumed his jaw, the way his hair curls about overlarge fingersâall of it shudders through Eridanus with a craving for more. As if the touch, chaste yet heavy with the weight of their relationship, was never enough. The thumb that delicately traces his maw ventures upward, over the scar that slices down his cheek in a thick vein of opal, has the lashes of his lower eye beside it quiver.
As Lucius retreats, Eridanus' head tilts, chasing after that touch as it draws away with him to retrieve the Lucid Dream. His eyes follow the bulwark form of his consort, following the curve of musculature left bare by a body that cannot fit normal clothing. He watches the perfectly trained movements of Lucius, his gaze both indulgent and admiring as the man returns before him. Once more he leans into the touch to his chinâa beast to its master.]
What do you mean, my Eternal? [Realization slowly brightens in his gaze,] wait... do you mean to sayâ?
[Eridanus resists the urge to stand and pull that scarified face to eye level and peer for the freshest of scars. He doubts he'd be able to find it beneath the lacework of millennia, and yet, just the thought of his death tearing a new hole into Lucius' visage has his heart thundering against his breast. Instead, his hands come up to hold the fat wrist of his beloved as excitement colors his pallid visage.]
I am honored, [his gaze drops away, towards the saber held in a hand far too large for it. He shudders a breath,] that my death would be worthy of cutting your face brings me a joy like no other.
Sometimes, the bitterest flavor is the most exquisite. [ His thumb moves, and as if Eridanus were just such a loyal dog, it teases against the swath of skin exposed along the underside of his chin. Even through the tip of enamel claws, he can feel the difference between flesh that gives and the intermittent stone that dots it; Lucius traces the seams where one becomes the other, gaze as keen as the silvered blade clasped within his hand as it greets the sight of the other's heated visage below. ] I wonder: have you ever had the chance to taste it for yourself? The excruciation of seeing something dear to you, rendered into ruination by your own hand â it's a delicacy unlike any other, and one of the rarest.
[ After all, there are only a few irreplaceable things Lucius might consider dearâso few he can count them on a single hand with fingers to spare. The mere thought of it is enough to pull a breathless edge to his voice, and the memory of Eridanus' corpse cooling in the cradle of his arms pierces him with a cut as sharp as those old thoughts of Fulgrim restrained and sullied by the tortures of he and his brothers. It draws his shoulders tight with the pleasure of it, and a breath hisses between his teeth as his tongue once more dances through the air beyond his lips. ]
And yet, here you are once more, as whole as ever! [ Lucius laughs, the noise a merry one, and as he does, the hand with the sabre lifts. He recalls the place where he had pressed its edge into his own skin; within his grasp, he tilts Eridanus' face, angling his right brow forward. Not the swath of skin where Lucius had scarred himself, but its perfect mirrorâwould that symbolism not be fitting for this moment? ] That is yet another occasion worth memorializing â wouldn't you say, dear beast?
[Another shiver crawls down Eridanus' opal-crusted spine, prickling the skin of his scarred back in gooseflesh. He has to fight to keep from closing his eyes, the fluttering of his eyelashes the only other tell as that tickling thumb coaxes a soft sigh from his throat. He wishes to be lost in the feelingâhis chin resting in the palm of his Eternal's hand, his gaze upwards and indulging his magnificence.
But the pleasure of a devotee wanes from his expression, replaced instead by a pinched brow and a melancholy frown. The hands that rest upon Lucius' wrist slide down the length of his arm, feeling over the firm give of muscle and vein as they do. It's a stupid questionâbut Eridanus won't say as much. Rather, when his lips part it's with another sigh, though this one speaks to a loneliness centuries past rather than a longing.]
Ryeanna. [He speaks her name short and simple, and when his gaze returns upwards, there's an urgency in them that wishes to move beyond the topic of his own loss.] It is a bitter taste indeed, and my brush with it held no sweetness to follow thereafter. Alike as we are in some ways my beloved, that is not one of them.
[The peal of laughter is far too merry and by reflex, his overlong ears fold back with the sudden sound. Still, he keeps his chin carefully slotted in Lucius' hand, and closes his eyes as that silvered edge hovers over his brow. He fully expects the sharp kiss of that blade, but rather than pain and the warmth of blood, Lucius' words catch his attention. Eridanus' eyes flutter open once more, staring up at his consort with a gaze that is far more blissful than it was the moment before.]
Returning to your side is certainly worth celebrating, my Eternal. Emptiness consumes my soul whenever you are far, [and with that, his eyes close again with the nuzzling of his chin against fingers,] but my love for your magnanimity will bridge any chasm, and destroy any obstacle that keeps us apart.
Sweet words from my consort, [ Lucius purrs in answer. Of course, this moment of pause is in no way the seeking of permission; rather, there is a certain anticipation that always oozes from the gap between bare skin and the edge of a blade, and Lucius breathes it in to savor its flavor, the same as he would at the apex of a duel. ] One day, I hope to see for myself just how true they really are.
[ He has no doubt of Eridanus' sincerityâand that is precisely why the desire to see that pledge made manifest burns warmth through his flesh, heat fanning through his chest and filling his gut the way seawater invades a drowning man's lungs. This world is small, and so are the depravities that have whet his consort's palate. Given true freedom, how much atrocity might he commit, and all in devotion to Lucius himself?
As that sword's edge bears down, slicing deep to carve a vertical groove into Eridanus' brow, his tongue licks along the bottom edge of his lipless mouth with ravenous hunger. ]
[That keen blade slices through his skin with the precision of a hand that wields it as if it were merely an extension. His heart flutters, and Eridanus swears it's with every thundering pulse of his heart that he can feel the gush of blood as it paints the right side of his visage in brilliant red. His lashes gum together, sticking his eyelid closed; but with his other he watches the scarified visage above him with a newfound reverence. Among the latticed scars of Lucius' face, he finds the freshest as if seeking the tether of their hearts.
Once that blade lifts from his flesh, a throaty hum wells up from Eridanus,] with every mark by your hand, my flesh becomes a reflection of my soul. [His chin, slotted into the curve of his consort's palm, shifts to cradle more of his blood-smeared cheek within the possessive grasp, and a fond smile spreads across his face.]
Completely and wholly yours, my most beloved Lucius.
Indeed, [ Lucius replies, breathless with his inhale, ] you are.
[ The way Eridanus presses his face within the grasp of his palm is so much like the loyal beast Lucius names himâand when Eridanus so clearly aches for more of his touch, how can Lucius resist the urge to give it. For a second longer, Lucius looms large over the form of his consort bent in supplication, lipless maw drawn tight to bear his teeth. Then once more, he crouches before him, just as he had to strip him bear in ceremony; the ridged mask of his face swims closer, and with his hand still cupped around Eridanus' jaw, Lucius tilts his face for the meeting of their mouths.
It isn't much of a kissâand, fitting for this mimicry of his true flesh, it resembles those that passed between them in Felfri far more. That overlong tongue invades Eridanus' mouth, filling it until it overflows and its forked tips slither down the entrance of his throat. All the while, his own eyes remain open, half-lidded above their burning pupils as he watches Eridanus' face pinned beneath his. When that slick, fleshy muscle withdraws again, it licks across the opal guarding the outer edges of Eridanus' mouthâand then it skirts higher, passing over the tear-track scar that decorates that cheek until it comes to lave at eyes gummed shut by the sweet ambrosia of Eridanus' blood.
It probably doesn't take nearly as long as it seems for Lucius to lick the blood from his lashes. With one last lap at the blood gummed in his eyebrow, Lucius' hand drops away from Eridanus' chin; a moment later, both of those oversized paws find their way to Eridanus' body, and as Lucius stands, he hefts his consort up with him. It's only a few short steps to their bed, and as they reach its edge, Lucius rolls them both downward, Eridanus ending pinned beneath the hefty weight of Lucius' shoulder as if he were a treasured possession to be guarded. A clawed hand pulls along his form, less with a lover's passion and more as though he were simply verifying all is as he remembers. ]
[Dizzied with his euphoria, when Lucius leans in to claim his lips, the way Eridanus responds is nothing short of a mindless reaction. Rather than an impassioned return, it's softer, fond. That tongue fills his mouth and he swallows it down like sweet nectar. His unstuck eye closes, and he shifts to press the unrelenting ridge of his maw against his consort's chin as if he wished to draw out the simple show of affection for an eternity.
But the touch is as short-lived as it ever is, and soon after Lucius withdraws his tongue, it instead glides upwards. Eridanus' voice catches in his throat, a whimper of a sound as the right half of his face is cleaned up the way an animal would rather than a man. Still, when he reopens his eyes, it's with a smile that creases them at the corners as his reverent gaze returns upwards. That gaze remains too, even as Lucius easily scoops him up into overlarge arms and carries them to the bed.
Content with the way their bodies slot together, Eridanus' own opaline claws trace over the scarified ridges of Lucius' face. A daggered forefinger picking out the freshest of the lot and tracing along the mirrored match to the fresh slice in his brow.]
My beloved, [his voice is soft, as he traces more of those scars, uncaring if those obsidian-sharp tips flense deadened tissue or not. His expression sours slightly, from fond to contemplative as his gaze rakes over his consort's latticed skin,] do you remember your deaths? Do you remember the source of every scar?
[ At first, the only answer that question prompts is the short sound of an indulgent laugh. ]
My sweet Archmage, [ Lucius says, the waver of teasing mirth at the edges of his voice, ] are you worried I'll forget which one is yours? [ Naturally, such an idea is ridiculous, and the humor of it settles into Lucius' fanged grin. His hand stills against the naked bone of Eridanus' hip, exploratory touch turning into something heavy and possessive as he replies, ] An Astartes has perfect recall. It's only natural that I do.
[ Statements that are true, but not wholly honest. He should recall every moment of his last eleven-thousand years with perfect precision, but his own memory has been worn away by the very blessing that Eridanus asks about now. It's a reality he has never quite admitted beyond the confines of his own skullâand, of course, he doesn't intend to start now. ]
[As laughter wafts between them, Eridanus shivers. His ears perk to the sound of it, overlong and seeking after that mellifluous sound. Lucius' claws bears down on his naked hip and rather than shying from the threat of sharpened tips, he shifts on the bedding to slot himself closer to his consort.]
I would not say that I am worried, per se... [Despite them, his words trail with a lack of confidence. Behind the jealous guard of his opal maw, his fangs bear down and worry his bottom lip as he continues to trace patterns in the textured surface of Lucius' skull.]
So many battles have been immortalized on your skin, [his fingers pause at the sunken pit of Lucius' ear, and his palm shifts to cup the man's cheek in a lover's hold,] how many of them have you died in? What was it like, to be revived by your God? Was it cold, like the Sea of Stars, or was the it the warm embrace of a parent with their child?
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In place of the fire that Eridanus had commanded before, another, familiar furnace burns within him. He feels the torrent of it beneath his skin, the way it sings in the ears that peel back and lay flat against his skull like an agitated cat. It's in whip of his tail, that cuts through the air like the keen edge of a sword, and the subtle twitch of his clawsâonce again shimmering in opalescence and sharped into obsidian razor blades. He feels the insidious pull of his anger, and so fresh is it in his pulse that he cannot hide the way his lips peel back, baring his daggered teeth up at Lucius like a feral beast.]
And you think I have forgiven you for mistrusting me? [He hisses the words from between clenched teeth, his shoulders screaming with the tension that raises them to his ears.]
You have no idea what I endured in nothingness! A consciousness barely suspended like a horrifying nightmare I could not escape â simply endure. [He pants with rage, breath hot on his lips. His anger is a familiar, embracing comfort,] and you think I will jump into your arms like a gleeful whore returning to her Lord? I have more pride than that, Lucius.
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There is nothing to be forgiven, Eridanus, [ he declares, the words low and absolute in their surety. ] You may be something far more precious than a mere whore, but I am your lord. The moment you pledged yourself to me, you surrendered all of yourself to my whims â or have you forgotten? Your life, and your death â all that you are is mine, to be given or taken as I please.
Besides, [ he says, and his tone shifts, light as the step he takes away, ] you shouldn't complain to me of endurance in death. I've heard talk of what death is like in this realm, and it is nothing.
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The gaze he affixes the other with is nothing short of defiant. It's calculatingâas if assessing every twitch of muscle and fluid movement for an opening, or weakness. There are none though, and even in the meager flesh of the Fog, as ornamented as it is to look akin to Lucius' true hide, he is still the perfect swordsman. At his own sides, the muscles of his arms bulge through the thin fabric of his dirt and blood-smeared shirt; through the stomach, cut open to reveal the swath of chiseled flesh beneath, peeks a thick opal vein where he had been gutted.
Then, with a bestial huff, he lowers his shoulders. His claws are no longer splayed, ready to attack. He stares up at Lucius pensively,] and you were fine with being without me, then? [Eridanus pauses, and with a deep inhale of breath he steps forwards. His viridescent eyes remain on Lucius' face, unblinking, until they are so close that he can feel the warmth that demon-flesh radiates.]
I am not some toy to be disposed of. I am not some menial wretch that will endure abuse with no cause. I am Champion, and you will respect me â or kill me for good.
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Even in this facsimile of his original flesh, its claws cannot pass easily through the stone of Eridanus' skin. His touch bears down hard as fingers settle against the back of his neck, and perhaps Lucius will just have to content himself with the welting of unbroken skin as his touch drags itself upward with the thirst to gouge meat from bone. ]
That is why you should already understand how indispensable you are. [ His fingers bear along the opal that encases his consort's jaw, even with no skin there to claw at all. ] There are fates worse than death, my dear, beloved Archmage. What I chose was the best way to protect us both from that reality.
[ His thumb slots beneath Eridanus' chin, holding his jaw tight within the crook of his palm. ] Try to think as I do, Eridanus â as a man for whom death has meant nothing for ten-thousand years. Can you not see the calculation behind my blade?
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Protect us, or protect yourself? [Pulse thunders in his ears as his eyes narrow into predatory slits. His weathered visage pinches with growing rage, but even with a jerk of his chin, Eridanus cannot tear himself from the claws that grasp himâthe strength the fog lends Lucius currently greater than his own.]
If I am such a weakness for you, perhaps I will do you the favor of keeping my distance.
[Despite the words roused with his anger, he feels the way his stomach ties itself into knotsâa quagmire of emotion that readily pulls him down into the inescapable muck. To be without Lucius for even a second is torture, and yet, the man himself seems completely unbothered. Perhaps he is more replaceable than he previously thoughtâthe mere thought of which sickens him.]
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His hand drops from Eridanus' jawâdown to his neck, claw-fingers settling around his throat as the firm cage of a collar. ]
Must I remind you where a Champion's place lies? [ His smile tightens, and so does his grip, touch drawing stricter around his throat with each passing word. ] A Champion remains at his Lord's side â with unwavering loyalty, in good or in ill. If you intend to betray such a simple commandment, perhaps I ought to do as you say.
[ And then that hand releases Eridanus, and Lucius steps back, smile returned to idle playfulness as if anything besides had been a mere mirage. ]
Now do you want the Lucid Dream returned to your hip or not?
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His defiance no doubt warrants death, he knows it doesâso when that hand finally loosens its grip on his neck, Eridanus doesn't continue to bare his fangs like a minatory beast. Between gasping breaths, he grabs his own throat and rubs over the tender column of aching flesh.]
I want it, [he rasps, some remnants of anger and pride still edged into his quiet tone.]
But, it is because of my loyalty that I am so angered, Lucius.
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Eridanus, you may take my word for it when I say that you missed nothing worth being alive for. [ The playful verve disappears from his tone, and what's left hovers somewhere between exasperated and tired. ] If you believe I could have been blindly trusted in such circumstances, you truly are a fool â and you certainly wouldn't have been any happier if I merely turned you away to fend for yourself.
[ And, in truth, Lucius would have felt far worse. To say that the thought of Eridanus reduced to a mere puppet disturbs him, however, is to admit to far too much attachmentâand, as usual, as long as Lucius doesn't entertain the thought, it isn't real. ]
Would it not be better to simply celebrate your return instead of this? [ He heaves a sigh, heavy and theatrical. ] And after I awaited you so eagerly, too.
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[The words are hopeful, the sound of them trailing behind Lucius a few paces. If he turns, he'll see Eridanus standing there, his stride interrupted by the promise of the answer he seeks; and as his wide eyes search that scarified face, he nearly stands on the balls of his feet with bated breath. Even he hadn't parsed the source of his upset prior to returning home, and yet, when the words escaped his throat, it all made sense.]
When I was alone with what little consciousness I had, all I could imagine is that you see me as nothing more than a hinderance. [His chin lowers, and suddenly he tears his gaze away from Lucius. His tongue feels far too big for his mouth,] the thought of being cast aside by you, cleaved through my very soul. You seemed almost relieved to be without me.
[And that was it, wasn't it? Eridanus' brow furrows as he crosses his arms. So selfish is his desire, that he wishes Lucius to suffer just as he does when they are apart. He wishes Lucius to feel something for his deathâto not just wear that comfortable smile that seems forever etched into his visage.]
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Do you truly think that, Eridanus? [ The words are so flat that they nearly cease to be a question. ] Even now, when I've been more permissive of your defiance than I would any other man who calls me "Lord"? [ He scoffs out a sound that manages some amusement, and some wry humor makes its way back to his tone as he says, ] It's good that I don't have feelings for you to hurt. I'd be devastated, otherwise.
[ After Eridanus had been the one to recoil from his touch, after Lucius has already said he wants to return the blade that stands as the mark of fealty between them, after everything he has said about what a special place Eridanus holds within his worldâbut if he stands here and thinks about it, he truly will become irritated. He turns again, and steps forward. ]
Enough of this. [ The wane humor in his voice has already withered away to nothing once more. ] I did not cast you aside anymore than I cast aside my own life when I use Slaanesh's gift to take a ship or a stronghold from within. Or does every other moment that has passed between us mean nothing to you?
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N-No, my Lord, [he mumbles quietly, his his gaze downcast and averted,] every moment between us has coalesced and become my entire world... perhaps I am just... shaken from the entire ordeal.
[With the shame of a dog tucking his tail between his legs, Eridanus strides forward in meek steps. He still keeps his eyes lowered, his head bowed, with his ears peeled back. The hand that had found purchase, curled into the fabric of his own shirt, instead reaches out in blind seeking of Lucius' overlarge hand.]
Forgive me for doubting you?
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Lucius' clawed fingers wrap around a hand rendered small by his current skin, and as they reach the doorway to their shared bedroom, Lucius spins Eridanus through its arch with that grip. Love feels more like a cudgel in his grip than the keen-edged dagger Fulgrim had made it seem to beâan imperfection that his father, of course, lacked. ]
Only once.
[ With that declaration, his hands find the remnants of Eridanus' suit. The top half is dirty and torn, and seeing as there's little point in treating an already ruined garment gently, he divests Eridanus of it with a simple tear down its middle. Sharp eyes rake his consort's bare flesh as he pushes the cloth from his shoulders, and as they linger over scars carved into his body by Lucius' own bladeâold and new, rendered again in the glittering lines that suit the significance they bearâhis tongue dances between his lips as if it were a serpent posed to strike.
He has to lower himself for the bottom half, and so he drops into a crouch possessed less of the air of a man taking a knee and more of one doing what he wishes with what belongs to him. The belt, at least, is intact, and so it receives somewhat more respectful treatment than the top half had. ]
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But then they blow wide as Lucius drops down before him, and behind him, Eridanus' tail straightens nearly upwards with surprise. A sound, somewhere between shock and anticipation, wells up from his throat. Overlarge claws make for his belt, and rather than assist those dexterous points, he settles his own hands over the backs of his consort's.]
What manner of ritual is this? [He can't help from asking, especially when he assumed he would simply have his sword returned to him.
Perhaps the clothing is a reminder, or perhaps its sullied state was offensiveâEridanus didn't have the answers, and really, he didn't even care for them. Sooner than later, his trousers are dropped around his ankles, leaving him in nothing more than his underwear and the loosed shirt-stays still strapped around his thighs.]
Your silence is utterly provocative, my Eternal...
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If you're going to insist on forgetting your place, I'll have you utterly bare to remind you of it. [ It's light, so far as punishments goâbut, even so, nudity comes along with a particular vulnerability, befitting of a man who lives and dies at Lucius' discretion.
And, of course, he does mean utterly. The underwear and shirt-stays are undone along with the rest, and as Lucius rises again to look down upon his work, a lightness returns to the set of his shoulders as well. ]
If you understand where it is you belong, kneel down to accept it.
[ The Lucid Dream deserves more than an unceremonious change of hands, regardless. ]
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Of course, my Eternal.
[As he speaks, he bends down with only a stutter of movement, dropping onto his knees before Lucius. Like pulling on an old glove, he finds his place cowed at his consort's hooves easily; and from below, he returns his gaze upwards, fixing the hulking figure above him with familiar, venerating eyes.]
I am your beloved, eternal servant.
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It's precisely the monstrous face had has missed in the past monthsâalmost too much so, in fact. Quiet seconds pass between them, and only then does Lucius recognize the tear track scars he had rended into Eridanus' cheeks a month before. Half-covered, half-lost among the clutter of tusks and second eyes, despite their new glittering shade, they don't stand out on his troll-skin in the same way they had upon the face where they were first placed. What was once the pad of his thumb rubs against Eridanus' cheek, as if the rest might simply be cleared awayâbut, of course, nothing rearranges itself for his touch.
A heartbeat's disappointment settles over himâbut then he realizes that he might simply use the opportunity to make this reunion between all the more special, and his eyes widen with sudden light. He steps back to retrieve the Lucid Dream from where it has been respectfully left at Eridanus' bedside; when he stands before Eridanus again, however, he draws it from its sheath himself. It's small in his hand, but he acclimated himself to that unfortunate reality, and he hardly notices as much as his free hand comes forth to cup Eridanus beneath his chin and tilt his head back. ]
Did you notice, Eridanus? [ The words are a sigh, breathy with his own anticipation. ] No, I suppose you can't now. This skin hides it, but I thought that moment between us deserved to be immortalized on my flesh.
[ Meaning that Eridanus has been allowed to leave his mark on him twice nowâalbeit in a more indirect way, this time. ]
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As Lucius retreats, Eridanus' head tilts, chasing after that touch as it draws away with him to retrieve the Lucid Dream. His eyes follow the bulwark form of his consort, following the curve of musculature left bare by a body that cannot fit normal clothing. He watches the perfectly trained movements of Lucius, his gaze both indulgent and admiring as the man returns before him. Once more he leans into the touch to his chinâa beast to its master.]
What do you mean, my Eternal? [Realization slowly brightens in his gaze,] wait... do you mean to sayâ?
[Eridanus resists the urge to stand and pull that scarified face to eye level and peer for the freshest of scars. He doubts he'd be able to find it beneath the lacework of millennia, and yet, just the thought of his death tearing a new hole into Lucius' visage has his heart thundering against his breast. Instead, his hands come up to hold the fat wrist of his beloved as excitement colors his pallid visage.]
I am honored, [his gaze drops away, towards the saber held in a hand far too large for it. He shudders a breath,] that my death would be worthy of cutting your face brings me a joy like no other.
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[ After all, there are only a few irreplaceable things Lucius might consider dearâso few he can count them on a single hand with fingers to spare. The mere thought of it is enough to pull a breathless edge to his voice, and the memory of Eridanus' corpse cooling in the cradle of his arms pierces him with a cut as sharp as those old thoughts of Fulgrim restrained and sullied by the tortures of he and his brothers. It draws his shoulders tight with the pleasure of it, and a breath hisses between his teeth as his tongue once more dances through the air beyond his lips. ]
And yet, here you are once more, as whole as ever! [ Lucius laughs, the noise a merry one, and as he does, the hand with the sabre lifts. He recalls the place where he had pressed its edge into his own skin; within his grasp, he tilts Eridanus' face, angling his right brow forward. Not the swath of skin where Lucius had scarred himself, but its perfect mirrorâwould that symbolism not be fitting for this moment? ] That is yet another occasion worth memorializing â wouldn't you say, dear beast?
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But the pleasure of a devotee wanes from his expression, replaced instead by a pinched brow and a melancholy frown. The hands that rest upon Lucius' wrist slide down the length of his arm, feeling over the firm give of muscle and vein as they do. It's a stupid questionâbut Eridanus won't say as much. Rather, when his lips part it's with another sigh, though this one speaks to a loneliness centuries past rather than a longing.]
Ryeanna. [He speaks her name short and simple, and when his gaze returns upwards, there's an urgency in them that wishes to move beyond the topic of his own loss.] It is a bitter taste indeed, and my brush with it held no sweetness to follow thereafter. Alike as we are in some ways my beloved, that is not one of them.
[The peal of laughter is far too merry and by reflex, his overlong ears fold back with the sudden sound. Still, he keeps his chin carefully slotted in Lucius' hand, and closes his eyes as that silvered edge hovers over his brow. He fully expects the sharp kiss of that blade, but rather than pain and the warmth of blood, Lucius' words catch his attention. Eridanus' eyes flutter open once more, staring up at his consort with a gaze that is far more blissful than it was the moment before.]
Returning to your side is certainly worth celebrating, my Eternal. Emptiness consumes my soul whenever you are far, [and with that, his eyes close again with the nuzzling of his chin against fingers,] but my love for your magnanimity will bridge any chasm, and destroy any obstacle that keeps us apart.
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[ He has no doubt of Eridanus' sincerityâand that is precisely why the desire to see that pledge made manifest burns warmth through his flesh, heat fanning through his chest and filling his gut the way seawater invades a drowning man's lungs. This world is small, and so are the depravities that have whet his consort's palate. Given true freedom, how much atrocity might he commit, and all in devotion to Lucius himself?
As that sword's edge bears down, slicing deep to carve a vertical groove into Eridanus' brow, his tongue licks along the bottom edge of his lipless mouth with ravenous hunger. ]
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Once that blade lifts from his flesh, a throaty hum wells up from Eridanus,] with every mark by your hand, my flesh becomes a reflection of my soul. [His chin, slotted into the curve of his consort's palm, shifts to cradle more of his blood-smeared cheek within the possessive grasp, and a fond smile spreads across his face.]
Completely and wholly yours, my most beloved Lucius.
cw: tongue, licking, gross, etc
[ The way Eridanus presses his face within the grasp of his palm is so much like the loyal beast Lucius names himâand when Eridanus so clearly aches for more of his touch, how can Lucius resist the urge to give it. For a second longer, Lucius looms large over the form of his consort bent in supplication, lipless maw drawn tight to bear his teeth. Then once more, he crouches before him, just as he had to strip him bear in ceremony; the ridged mask of his face swims closer, and with his hand still cupped around Eridanus' jaw, Lucius tilts his face for the meeting of their mouths.
It isn't much of a kissâand, fitting for this mimicry of his true flesh, it resembles those that passed between them in Felfri far more. That overlong tongue invades Eridanus' mouth, filling it until it overflows and its forked tips slither down the entrance of his throat. All the while, his own eyes remain open, half-lidded above their burning pupils as he watches Eridanus' face pinned beneath his. When that slick, fleshy muscle withdraws again, it licks across the opal guarding the outer edges of Eridanus' mouthâand then it skirts higher, passing over the tear-track scar that decorates that cheek until it comes to lave at eyes gummed shut by the sweet ambrosia of Eridanus' blood.
It probably doesn't take nearly as long as it seems for Lucius to lick the blood from his lashes. With one last lap at the blood gummed in his eyebrow, Lucius' hand drops away from Eridanus' chin; a moment later, both of those oversized paws find their way to Eridanus' body, and as Lucius stands, he hefts his consort up with him. It's only a few short steps to their bed, and as they reach its edge, Lucius rolls them both downward, Eridanus ending pinned beneath the hefty weight of Lucius' shoulder as if he were a treasured possession to be guarded. A clawed hand pulls along his form, less with a lover's passion and more as though he were simply verifying all is as he remembers. ]
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But the touch is as short-lived as it ever is, and soon after Lucius withdraws his tongue, it instead glides upwards. Eridanus' voice catches in his throat, a whimper of a sound as the right half of his face is cleaned up the way an animal would rather than a man. Still, when he reopens his eyes, it's with a smile that creases them at the corners as his reverent gaze returns upwards. That gaze remains too, even as Lucius easily scoops him up into overlarge arms and carries them to the bed.
Content with the way their bodies slot together, Eridanus' own opaline claws trace over the scarified ridges of Lucius' face. A daggered forefinger picking out the freshest of the lot and tracing along the mirrored match to the fresh slice in his brow.]
My beloved, [his voice is soft, as he traces more of those scars, uncaring if those obsidian-sharp tips flense deadened tissue or not. His expression sours slightly, from fond to contemplative as his gaze rakes over his consort's latticed skin,] do you remember your deaths? Do you remember the source of every scar?
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My sweet Archmage, [ Lucius says, the waver of teasing mirth at the edges of his voice, ] are you worried I'll forget which one is yours? [ Naturally, such an idea is ridiculous, and the humor of it settles into Lucius' fanged grin. His hand stills against the naked bone of Eridanus' hip, exploratory touch turning into something heavy and possessive as he replies, ] An Astartes has perfect recall. It's only natural that I do.
[ Statements that are true, but not wholly honest. He should recall every moment of his last eleven-thousand years with perfect precision, but his own memory has been worn away by the very blessing that Eridanus asks about now. It's a reality he has never quite admitted beyond the confines of his own skullâand, of course, he doesn't intend to start now. ]
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I would not say that I am worried, per se... [Despite them, his words trail with a lack of confidence. Behind the jealous guard of his opal maw, his fangs bear down and worry his bottom lip as he continues to trace patterns in the textured surface of Lucius' skull.]
So many battles have been immortalized on your skin, [his fingers pause at the sunken pit of Lucius' ear, and his palm shifts to cup the man's cheek in a lover's hold,] how many of them have you died in? What was it like, to be revived by your God? Was it cold, like the Sea of Stars, or was the it the warm embrace of a parent with their child?
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sorry that Lucius will not shut up about himself and how great he is
it's nothing you ever have to apologize for honestly I did this to myself, anyways, cw: horny
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