Lucien leant over the window’s
ledge, allowing his wrist to slack and his open palm to catch the
base of his sculptured neck. His mauve eyes held the expression of
exhaustion which impaled the corners of his feeble smile, now
dwindling into a disconcerted scowl.
He eased his fingers from
his chin down to the nape of his masculine neck, rasping the beaded
sweat which now clung to the surface of his palm. How irritating
was his nights now hampered with the recollections of a deluded
past. Slowly Lucien closed his eyes, allowing himself to inhale the
fresh lawn’s air which trailed in through the open window.
Things seemed peaceful… even if beneath this mask of peace
and contentment was the devilish cries of something far more
Lucien glanced up, his eyes
fixating upon the slender glistening of the crucifix which now
wavered elegantly within the morning’s soft breeze. If he
dared extend his arm he could doubtlessly grace its polished
surface with the carefulness of his touch. The symbol of the lord;
a smirk twisted to the corner of his thin pale lips. He could feel
the amusement gathering within his throat as the odour of
dragon’s blood, a familiar incense, slinked its way beneath
the door’s base crack.
fool,’ he scoffed.
Lucien could never really
bring himself to comprehend how this old man assumed he was safe in
a realm occupied with nothing but sin. A knock shattered his
thoughts. Reith fumbled with the matches and began to quickly light
the scented candles placed within every corner of the
‘Are you up
yet?’ The voice trailed in like an old-fashioned whisper.
Archer had undoubtedly aged over the years of Reith living
up.’ Lucien tugged the belt around his jeans, pulling the
waistline perfectly around his slim figure. He listened and waited
for Archer’s footsteps to fade down the hall before he slid
on his leather vest, fastening it down the centre, followed by his
thick coat decorated with snowy fur around the rim of his
It seemed odd, how four
years could possibly mould into one. It’d been four years
since Archer opened his doors to a child peering up from a
sheltered hood, even still to this day, he provides adequately to
Lucien’s every needs. It was probably his religious side
which forced him to act in such a way to even a stranger,
especially that of an orphaned child. Reith just played the
innocent, following along with his preacher’s ways and
retained his actual reason for being there, a veil unmoveable by
anyone but himself.
He headed down the
stairwell, being careful to keep his hand running effortlessly down
the banister. Lucien recoiled, only just managing to evade touching
the glossy cross which now dangled from the banister’s end.
Archer tended to move them around without warning… but then
again… why would he need to warn someone who allegedly
believed so much in his religious ways? Lucien clenched his fingers
gently into a ball just above where the cross swayed. With a little
more concentration he could undoubtedly dismember the wretched
thing and that’d be one less problem he’d be left to
face, nevertheless, a mini flare-up would probably cause an
‘Why must you dress
in such dark clothing?’ Archer glanced up from his bowl of
porridge. ‘Sometimes I wonder where the communication has
gone between you and our father-‘
nowhere,’ Lucien murmured, a little edge to his tone as he
pulled his seat back and lowered himself onto the cushion. ‘I
just prefer the darker way, to leave room for the light,’ he
smiled, almost restricting his own words.