psioniccrown

[psioniccrown]

KOVIDER WOLFE. PSIONIC PRINCE.

[psioniccrown]

tw: violence, blood, mind fuckery.

kovider doesn't know what to do. he feels hollowed out like a redwood, scorched from the inside out, everything that made him whole stripped down to nothing. running isn't an option, escapism isn't a salve for these kinds of wounds. these go bone deep, to his marrow, tangled with the very essence of his being—his heartsong, his divinity, hurts.

adrian was not collateral damage to him. he's a man who sensed when he was hurting and stood up to protect him. he's a man who threw himself in the front to be a sentinel between their enemies and the rest of them, fighting with claw and fang as much as he'd been fighting with the very spirit of a protector. they weren't anything more than friends, kovider's silly crush on the man was nothing more than infatuation, but it was the promise of safety that kept kovider in adrian's orbit.

he'd told adrian that he'd protect him, too.

he'd failed.

kovider is used to that feeling; of being a failure. he's been one all his life in the eyes of many. his father most of all. it's strange how seeing that man's face, watching him as he struck out toward quinn or skylar with his knives, snuffed out the remnants of fear. he hopes so, at least. he knows that was nothing more than a figment of his worst nightmares made into illusion. he wonders if seeing his father in the flesh would have the same reaction.

he would've wanted adrian to go with him for that confrontation, too.

he's not sure when the decision to do this came. sometime after adam, sometime after visiting adrian, sometime after screaming until his voice was raw. he needed to cut off the last remnants of his passed so that he can move on. no more looking over his shoulder, no more fear of a man who would sooner carve him to ribbons instead of open his arms to him.

he is his father's son. but he's also the son of the queen of the heavens. vengeance is his nature, wrath is his companion, and that rage needed to be focused somewhere. maybe he wouldn't need anyone for this, now. maybe this is something he has to do on his own.

after leaving pearl with luka, not giving much of an explanation, he leaves. the last he heard about his father, he was living in washington. probably got a house there under someone else's name, with some new woman, after he'd killed kovider's mother. he's easy enough to find. the man liked the attention.

when the door opens after kovider knocks, it's not the son of hera who seems stunned to see a familiar face, but the man who never wanted him.

"hello, dad." kovider's words are icy, sharpened like a point. "hope you're happy to see me."

the answering smile is a serrated knife, brutal and dangerous, and kovider's own is a reflection of that. before his father can say anything, before he can even react with a fist or a stab, he's pushed back from the door frame and kovider steps inside the house, door slamming behind him. "tell everyone here to get out. i'm not like you. i won't make them collateral unless they try to attack me." he looks at his father's face, the surprise in his eyes, the shock in his bones. "they don't need to see what i'm going to do."

kovi finds himself surprised when his father calls out and people come running. they look at him with daggers in their eyes, hiding their shock that someone that he's sure his father has talked about wanting to kill is standing there and his father isn't doing anything.

a cold gaze lingers over each face. he recognizes some of them—men who had been in his father's syndicate since he was born, men who helped carve scars into his skin, who taught him how to hold a knife, who chased and chased and chased him like a dog who smelled blood. he doesn't smile at them now, there's no reason to. "get out now, go back to your families, and forget about working for him ever again. if you try to come back to him, if you try to do anything like what he's made you do all these years, if you try to find me, i'll know." a door to the side bursts open, flying off its hinges. they startle, nearly jumping out of their skin. "last chance."

kovider watches as his father's men scurry off like rats, leaving his father behind without a second thought.

"see, dad. i'm the scary one now."

"bullshit, you're just like the bitch. all bark, no bite."

kovider twists a hand in the air and doesn't flinch as the bones in his father's arm snap and his scream sfill the space between them.

"what the fuck! what the fuck!" his father, once an eloquent man, is reduced to nothing more than curse words and shock.

kovider walks forward, kneeling down in front of his father's form. "i've been the scared boy all my life. afraid of you, afraid of what you'd do to me if you ever caught me. afraid of the consequences for running." then, the words slip into his father's head. i'm not running anymore, dad. i'm right here. i'm not afraid of you. the smile stretches over his face, this time it's the smile of hera, assured and brutal, definitive. "and you should be scared of me."

kovi stands and moves to a wall filled with knives. he recognizes most of them, some of them are new. but he sees the ones he's looking for—the ones with the engravings, with his name etched into the blade with all the promises of death. he grabs it, twists it in his hand, and when he approaches his father, it's like the life drains from his face.

he tosses the knife beside him. "come on." kovider gestures to the knife. "kill me. let's see if you can. let's see if you're nothing more than bark, no bite."

and it begins.

the battle of their rage and hatred. both fo them, in some way, broken. kovider from exhaustion, from doing this right after everything he'd gone through. but this is vengeance, this is personal, this is a reckoning that needed to come sooner rather than later if he's ever going to reach his potential.

and it's so easy. he's toying with his father. he can nearly predict every move with just a small nudge into his father's mind. he lets the blade slice against him, sink into tender flesh. he doesn't even use a knife of his own, but puts energy around his fists to connect with bone, flesh, fat. whatever he can reach.

after what feels like an eternity, the house thrashed from their fight, he holds out a hand and his father stops, mind lunge. their chests are heaving, blood drips from wounds onto the wooden floor.

"i understand why you never wanted me now." he turns his face to look at him, his eyes glowing faintly iridescent, prismatic. "because i'll be more than you could ever be and no one was ever supposed to be more than you." he reaches out, holding his father by his chin. "you made me who i was. every step i took, every decision i made, was colored by you."

his father spits at kovi, the globule of it landing on his cheek. he flicks it away with a simple twitch of his finger.

"it ends now." hazel eyes meet hazel eyes, smile meets smile.

"you don't have the balls to kill me, kovider. your mother couldn't do it all those years ago. you'll run and when i find you—" a gasp of pain shoots out of his father's mouth, his body lurches forward.

"did you know that mom wasn't my true mother, not really." his voice is calm, collected, devoid of emotion. the monster that he'd always had lurking within showing it's true colors. "i'm something more, something special. i think you knew that and you hated her for it, you hated me for it because you were never chosen to be more." he steps back and his father's body raises in the air. "i'm the son of a goddess. i'm a prince by birthright and blood and i won't be held back by you anymore."

he lets his father down onto the ground, releasing the psionic hold. "so you have a choice to make. you can forget about me forever, you can keep your life and start fresh, like those that ran away from you or you can keep up your need to kill me and die instead." he looks him dead in the eyes, body relaxed even if his heart is kicking like a drum against his ribs.

in the end, his father's pride would not allow him to walk away. nearly twenty four years of a son he didn't want, half a life with him out of reach, whether he was behind bars or trying to find where kovider and his mother had gone, would not give him the grace to turn away from it now. he'd been made a mockery, he'd been made a fool. he would need to make kovider pay for the things his mother would not be able to answer for ever again.

kovider doesn't kill his father that day. no matter how much he wanted to. but what he does is much worse. he unleashes his rage, his power, and digs it into his father's mind, fracturing it piece by piece, leaving him a husk of himself.

with shaking limbs, with a weight lifted, kovider leaves and returns to camp. his past is dead. it will stay that way. now, finally, he can focus on his future.

[psioniccrown]

it's easy for kovider to understand what's happening. the storm is a manifestation of adam's anger and, even as it moves on, it still lingers. if it's not here, it's somewhere else. if adam isn't letting it out, he's only focusing it inward, destroying himself piece by piece, from the inside out. kovider could stop it, maybe. he's not someone adam typically turns to. he has prospero and stephanos for that, for when the pieces need to be glued back together. they will experience his anguish but he's not sure if they'll ever truly understand it. not the way that adam and kovider understand each other.

such is the tragedy of zeus and hera, of adam and kovider.

he inhales the sent of burnt ozone, of blood, of rain. tentatively, kovider reaches out for adam's hands. split skin opens over the mountain of his knuckles like a fissure, spilling out scarlet liquid like water from the tap. the rain mixes with it, thinning it out, and he watches as the red river spirals down palm and wrist on to the ground. he isn't a healer. his power is destructive, he's seen it first hand, he's felt it wash over him far worse than a storm. gently, he lifts them with his own, eyes still looking at the battered remnants of them.

"i can reset the bones but you'll need to let someone look them over." stephanos, he thinks, the thought staying within his own mind, not wanting to bring him into the conversation in case adam reacts poorly while in his mood. his head tilts up, eyes locked with adam's. "i've had to do it to myself plenty of times when i was on the run. reset, stop the bleeding, keep going." he repeats it to adam, the steps he would take when he had broken ribs, a bullet in his shoulder, fresh knife wounds along his stomach. "rinse and repeat."

whether or not adam lets him, whatever words need to be exchanged between them, afterward—hands slightly fixed or not—kovider places adam's hands against his face. fingertips to his temples, thumb to his cheek. he mirrors the movements, lifting his arms up to brush his fingertips along adam's still clenched jaw until his fingers are against his temples. he inhales and holds it, counts to five, and when he exhales he lets adam inside of his mind.

he shows him everything: the dig site, how they got through, the woman, the spider, the judgment of hera, the fight, the room, the village, the decimation of someone who spit at the ground near him, the shock of it, adrian, adrian, adrian, the compartimentalization of everything so he can survive, all of the terrifying and magnificent things that kovider did with his power, how he felt like he came into his own while on this mission, how he protected them when hera descended from the heavens and wiped a village from existence and thought.

he shows him the face of his father and how it stuck him in his spot, unable to move, to react, as something scoured through adrian and dropped him to the ground as if he never mattered. the fight that insued, the rage that kovider felt and how he was willing to let his father—eidothea, the thought—focus on him instead of the others. the power that he held and wielded, like a knife, and how that power enabled their brief victory. he shows adam how he and quinn, hands linked, destroyed the thought for good—a crown atop kovider's head and a shield hovering near quinn.

the conversation that came afterward, with hera. how skylar stepped over a line and hera punished him for it, how kovider stepped in to tell her the same things but show her a truth that she could not refute. the gods needed to be better or their worship would end. kovider needed her to be better or something like this would happen again. he pushes those thoughts, those feelings, through their mental link until they arrived back at camp, solemn in their triumph.

see, i'm no hero. kovider's thoughts brush against adam's as he pulls his hands from adam's temples, moving along adam's wrists to pull his hands away, too. kovi heaves out a heavy sigh, shoulders slumping, eyes locked on adam's, waiting for his reaction.

The storm hadn’t passed, not really. It had just shifted - drawn back like the breath before another roar. Thunder rumbled somewhere distant, low and constant. The forest was drenched in stillness, soaked through and heavy with the aftermath of rage. Adam stood now, steam bleeding off him in slow curls, the wreckage of the tree behind him smoking at the edges. His pulse still echoed in his ears like drums pounding ceaselessly loud in his veins. Rain tapped against his skin, slid down the cut of his chest, and pooled at the edges of his bruised knuckles.

Kovider's affirmations washed over him, numbness following the raging storm as a cold demeanor hardened the edges of the fighter's jaw. Like water turning to ice, the relatable and friendly disposition changed to something else entirely. The Fontaine, or the true son of Zeus, waiting with a cool malice below. At first, Adam just stood still, shoulder rising and falling, every breath forced through his teeth like it had to fight its way out. His eyes stayed on Kovider as Adam took him in. He was different - Adam couldn't pinpoint it quite, but the son of Hera had changed. The shadow behind his eyes remained, but there was steel and bedrock where uncertainty had once been.

Each of them had their wars to fight, and Adam was no different from the rest. Worn down and beaten, what remained was a body without direction: a force with no clear direction. Like a cornered animal, he might have reacted differently had the work not already begun: but the son of Zeus drew in a breath and fed that fateful flame - warming above a chill but cooling beneath a simmer, Adam nodded.

He had to know. He had to see - if the Gods were going to be sending them to their potential doom then Fontaine would be prepared. “Show me,” he said, voice low and rough. Gravel and thunder, still hot.

[psioniccrown]

violence is a familiar friend to the son of hera. all his life it's been a constant companion. it took the shape of his father, his mother, himself. it will take the shape of monsters and demons and friends. he's never truly been scared of violence, it's always been the lack of it that frightened him in a strange way. when it was gone, that meant the next time would be worse. he was used to it in abundance, like a cornucopia of wrath that he could and would always know intimately.

adam's violence is no difference, focused outward, toward him as the son of zeus' broken hands push him away. as the lightning carves through the air like a knife, scarring the ozone like the scars that liter kovider's body. the hair on the back of his neck stands, his own fingers twitch in case he needs to stop adam from lunging at him, but he's not scared. he doesn't step back more than the push allowed, he doesn't turn and run away.

he meets adam's brutality with a tenderness that he's now shown more than once. not just to others, but to himself. he can't just be a thing crafted from pain and anger, forged by cruelty and resentment. he has to be more. show them the type of god you want us to be. the words ring in his ears. he's not sure what kind of god he wants hera to be, only better than she was, better than she is. he, too, can follow that same advice.

when the viciousness leaves adam it's like kovider can see the wisps of it rising from him like smoke. it never evaporates, it never disappears. for a moment it's as if the violent assault might, but then it surges back inside of him, twisting around his core like barbed wire.

when adam falls to his knees, kovider sinks down with him. he moves closer to him, not touching—he said not to, he'll respect that—but enough proximity that if adam needed it, if he would allow it, kovider would be there to give. "you don't need to apologize to me." he says it matter-of-factly, with finality. "i knew what might happen when i decided to hug you. i'm not afraid of you, you won't hurt me the way you think you will." nothing, no one, could hurt kovider more than he's ever hurt himself. not just physically, but mentally and emotionally. he's been a broken thing all his life, he knows how to survive. he'd survive adam, he did in a way, if he had to.

kovider stands when adam stands, the toes of their shoes nearly touching as he looks up at the taller man. he listens to his words and he lets them sink in. he doesn't know what to say to it, not really. he thought that at one point—that the gods didn't really care for them, that they brought them here for their own personal gain. they did, in some ways, but it gave each of the demigods something they never had before. "i think i hate some of them." zeus. he thinks, for how he treated his mother.

"can i...show you what we went through?" with everything so fresh in his mind, it'd be easy to piece it together, to string the events together like a movie, and let adam see what they faced, what kovi did, who kovider wolfe was becoming. "i want...i need someone besides quinn and skylar to know." a shaky breath. "and i'd like that to be you."

The heat rolling off his skin could’ve scorched bark - his body crackled in faint, volatile pops of residual lightning, like a live wire still twitching after impact. Steam hissed from the curve of his back where the rain was still beating hard against his raw, bare skin. His jaw - clenched so tight - you could hear his molars grind. His chest heaved - still mid-battle, mid-war, and Kovider stepped straight into the storm with all the burden of someone who'd already been tasked with carrying more than anyone ever ought to.

Briefly, for a couple fleeting seconds, the shock of the sudden contact was permitted to simply happen without recourse but there was nothing about Adam that could be contained. His ego, his divinity, but most of all his rage. That heat under his skin burned gold, crackling like fire as the son of Zeus sizzled with raging agony. Flushed, soaked skin, battered and beaten by his self-imposed regiment.

“Don’t.” The word tore out of him like shrapnel, his body jerking violently. He shoved against the embrace with both hands, blood-slicked, busted, trembling. “Don’t fucking touch me!” Adam's voice shook as lightning cracked overhead at the same instant - violent and too close - striking somewhere behind them, flash-blinding, thunder trailing through the air like a scream as ozone was cleaved in two and the rich scent of petrichor came sailing from the the evaporated water droplets. The ground shivered, and water was turned to mist: thick, hot, and humid, before the rain quickly washed it down.

Adam’s chest heaved. His fists clenched - and then, just as quick as he’d broken the moment - “Shit.” His voice caught in his throat, low, wrecked. “Fuck - Kovi -” His knees hit the ground like the tree falling all over again - hard, jarring. His hands, hung between his spread thighs as he hunched forward, rain soaking him to the bone as the fury boiled off of him and rose with the mist from his scorching frame. “I’m sorry,” Adam whispered. The words were hollowed out. “I didn’t mean - I just -” He couldn’t finish. Shitty fucking excuses. All that fire, and now nothing but smoke. The sparks dimmed. The storm inside him raged on, but quieter now - turned inward where it belonged.

Adam didn’t look up again at first. Instead, he just sat there in the mud, beneath the broken tree, fists limp, letting the rain drown the war in his bones. Adam wasn't the selfless type, this rage wasn't just for Adrian's sake, "This is all we are to them, you get that right? Expendable. Easily replaced." How long until another son of Artemis showed up at camp? They still had a spare. "I just-" Adam grit, "I fucking hate them Kovi." He stood again, muddied and bloodied as a a knee slid forward to give Adam some leverage as he stood at height - the rain slowed to a drizzle, but remained.

[psioniccrown]

sleep never really came after they returned home. he spent some time with adrian, with the healers who were watching over him, and sent silent prayers up to his mother as he reached out to grip the son of artemis' hand. too many thoughts kept racing through kovider's mind to allow him to sleep, even as he spent the remainder of the night in his mind palace to sort through himself, unpack everything he'd buried down.

he doesn't think he's cried so much in his entire life. he doesn't think he's screamed so much that he nearly coughed up blood. he's never felt his own rage boil beneath the surface the way he had within those safe confines. he could thank his mother for it, and for adrian's safety, and for their continued survival. he just wished, on some level, that he could do more. he wished, on some level, that he could give pieces of his heartsong to adrian so that his own could repair itself and sing once more. that was the fate that awaited them if their oath was broken, that was what could happen to them if something else had the power to draw on that source of energy and kovider doesn't know what to do with that.

when he leaves his cabin, his eyes search for adam. he said he'd see him in the morning and yet, he's not at the bonfire pit, he's not waiting on the steps, he's not on his own porch. he scowls and then a booming blast of thunder rips through the air. the rhythm is familiar, steady. he looks up at the sky, with the clouds rolling in over head and concentrating over the forest. he doesn't smile at the thought, he knows what this means. he takes the stairs down two at a time before he starts his run toward the forest, pulling his phone out to see if adam's location reveals where he is.

it does.

when adam whirls around to look at him, kovider is braced for a fight. he knows that look—he's seen it on plenty of faces, most of them worked for his father, or he's worn it himself in fits of uncontrolled rage. he watches as the lightning forms, crackling to life, fueled by wrath and grief and disappointment. he half expects adam to not be able to control it, to send it shooting straight toward him. he remembers telling adam that he wants to see him lose control, that he wouldn't be afraid of it. he's getting that wish, he's keeping true to his own word.

he's not afraid. he's never been scared of adam's volatile nature. he never would be, either.

"i'm not a hero." kovider's voice is even, if not a little hoarse from all the screaming he'd done throughout the night. he clears his throat again, taking steps forward without so much as a flinch at the dark, rolling wave of anger that batters against him like the winds of the storm. he could feel it, even when he was running through the woods. location be damned, he could track the son of zeus on his emotions. hazel eyes trace over adam's face, then down his body, focusing on the broken hands and drip blood onto the ground like a stream. he notes the split tree, splintered to pieces, and then connects their eyes once more.

without so much as a warning, kovider takes the last few steps forward, quickly, silently, and slips his arms around adam. he buries his face against the taller man's chest and squeezes his arms around him tightly.

a hug.

simple connection between the two of them. something kovider needs as much as he thinks adam might, too. he inhales sharply, shoulders nearly shaking with the effort of it, with the weight of everything that he'd witnessed and the aftermath that's still to come, and when he lets it out, they slump, as if he's trying to breathe in both of their anger and let it out so they can stand there, calm, in the eye of adam's storm.

"just let me hold you." kovider whispers, his voice nothing more than a murmur of wind that carries itself to adam's ears. he tilts his head up a little to look at adam's face, chin resting against the son of zeus, hazel eyes searching adam's. "we both need it."

@psioniccrown location: we're in the woods fam notes: content warning for some masochism featuring an angry boy as requested

Thwack - crack - CRACK -

Overhead the clouds had opened and with it came a downpour that had been covering the area since the night prior. There were a few hours of reprieve with a still, numb morning, but as Adam’s fists slammed into the tree the sky boomed like a war drum, knuckles already split and slick with blood. Bark bit back, carving into his flesh with every strike, but he didn’t slow down - if anything, he hit harder. Faster. Gritting his teeth so hard his jaw ached. He was right there. He was right fucking there and now he’s -

CRACK.

The pine shuddered under the force. A spiderweb of splinters split up the trunk, but Adam didn’t let up. His body screamed at him, muscles twitching with overuse, tendons pulling tight like coiled wire under his skin. He’d been training. Always fucking training. Constantly fucking training - for what? Did any of this shit even matter - ? Was this all they were? Fucking canon fodder for these fucks. All Adam could do about it was hit.

"FUCK!" he roared, shredding his voice. Another strike. Then another. Blood now smeared the bark - his own, warm and real and grounding. His left hand gave first - a crunch so loud it stopped him mid-breath - but he didn’t care. He switched to the right and pain shot up to his shoulder, but he kept going.

Boom - boom - boom -

The tree cracked down the middle, and on the final punch, it gave. Split like a bone under pressure. Timber fell in a sickening groan, heavy and slow, crashing to the earth behind him with a dying fall of finality. All he could feel was anger, rage, discontent - his veins were singing with adrenaline muddling with an electric current that felt like it might tear him apart at any given moment.

Soaked, the rain fell down in a thick blanket, a few stray sparks flickered from his broken hands - sizzling with finality as steam rose from the son of Zeus' frame. Volatile, he heard a branch snap and his arm lifted as a lance of concentrated lightning extended forward - chirping loudly like a thousand birds caught screaming at once. When it was Kovider he saw, gray eyes set above features he'd come to know so well, Adam dropped his arm and the lance broke apart.

"A hero appears."

[psioniccrown]

KOVIDER WOLFE. BODY.

[psioniccrown]

"the options can be a bit much sometimes." they're a good thing, no doubt, but sometimes it's nice to know what to do without having to decide on a choice. then again, he's not had many choices in his life and now that he does, he knows that he can do as he pleases. "but i like it. the options." he keeps going up the trail they've started on, a few steps ahead of adrian.

kovi shrugs his shoulders. "think there's something that uses steaks in soup? there probably is." he's not sure how good that sounds, but he'd look it up and see what he can find. he'd invite adrian over for it at the least. if it's bad, they can suffer together. "how are things going with the beast? feeling more at home when you shift?"

“never felt like I needed much.” he frowned, scratching the side of his face. “but now I have options. seems like a good thing, even if I don’t know what to do with half of them.” and he wasn’t just talking about food at this point. places to stay, places to go, people wanting to be around him, ways to handle problems- you name it, he’s got a choice for it.

“if you want to do steaks, do steaks.” he insisted. honestly so many guys around here were second guessing themselves over even the smallest things. “do both soup and steaks, even.”

[psioniccrown]

who: cian. [ @scalesworn ] where: gardens.

kovider has never been someone who stops to smell the roses. all his life it's been go, go, go, run, run, run. the only stopping he was afforded was when he slept or when he needed to think of which way to go.

now, though, he has the time. the gardens around the camp are beautiful and in full bloom. whether that's the dryads and nymphs doing or the sons of demeter, he's unsure. but kovi is sitting in a grassy area, surrounded by flowers, enjoying the sunlight on his skin. when he hears the sound of footsteps on grass, he opens his eyes and looks up toward cian. "hey," he says in greeting. "enjoying the weather?" he cocks an eyebrow, sighing as he stretches his legs out.

[psioniccrown]

as the image in hughie's mind shifts, kovi can't help but laugh at what he sees. it's probably some sort of scary monster they'll have to end up fighting in the future. pulling his own thoughts from hughie's mind, he reaches for some cheese and pops it into his mouth. "that's one way to live. saying what's on my mind would get me in too much trouble."

this time, he takes a bite of a peach that was on his plate. the juices flow down the sides of his mouth and he uses the back of his hand to wipe them away. "i'm working on the control. sometimes, shit happens."

as kovider peers in, hughie grins and mutates his mental picture of the koala: more hands, more eyes, more fangs. hopefully the other caught a glimpse of that, too. laughing, the son of artemis turned back towards his lunch. “nah, i don’t have anything to hide. if it’s in my head, i’ll probably say it too, mate - i don’t give much of a shag about it.” with hughie, what you saw was what you got. no pretense, no veneer. his authenticity had always been worn proudly, like a cloak of honor. 

“is it something you can control?” he cocked a brow. “my crocodile thing - haven’t got a clue on how to activate it. happens all naturally.”

[psioniccrown]

kovi just nods his head. "it was. but it made me who i am now." he's still grappling with that fact. there are still days when running seems like the only option. each day, though, he looks over his shoulder less and less. he has a place to call his, even if it's filled with strangers that he has to get to know. "it is strange, huh? anything we could want or need and all we have to do is ask." he's never had that before, he still finds it difficult.

he shakes his head, laughing, the smile on his face stretching wider. "probably, but there's the fancy ways to do it, too, where it comes out perfect on all sides." he shrugs his shoulders, humming to himself. "maybe i'll try something with soup instead."

“tough way to live.” adrian observed. it was a bit blunt but there was now coldness or judgment in the words. “and now you’re here, where you don’t have to worry about food, unless you want to. or you get tired of lamb.” this particular son of artemis could never get enough of it. he also appreciated being able to just walk in and grab a plate. no planning, no fussing. perfect, for him.

it was his turn to scrunch up his face. “don’t you just… slap it over a hot flame and flip it over halfway through?” he’d seen the videos of basting with butter with herbs placed on top but that just felt like people being extravagant for the sake of charging extra.

[psioniccrown]

"i don't think i'm good at it, either. it's just something i'm doing for myself." he inhales a sigh, shoulders slumping, and decides that honesty is probably the best course of action. "growing up, i lived mostly off gas station food and whatever we could eat without taking time to cook. we were always on the run." he stares ahead of them, memories of slipping bags of chips or sandwiches from a chill wall into his pockets and walking out of the gas station without paying. eating whatever was necessary for energy so they could keep going.

when adrian looks at him, he's looking back and gives him a smile. it's not forced, it's probably the closest to a genuine smile he's had for a while. "raisins are the devil. no thanks." he scrunches up his nose a bit, sticking his tongue out to make a disgusted face. "i think i want to try a steak. i'm gonna look up some recipes when we get back."

"I'm not a good cook," he admitted outright, just to keep expectations low. "I can make sure it's edible. Beyond that, I mostly rely on food here, beef sticks, protein bars, and whatever doesn’t burn too fast if I need to actually turn on a stove."

He adjusted the strap of his camera bag and glanced Kovi’s way. “But if you’re offering, I’m not scared.”

A beat, just enough time to make it seem like he might be joking. “Unless you’re putting raisins in it.”

He had strong opinions about raisins. And trail mix.

[psioniccrown]

kovider holds the pulled pork sandwich out and he watches, with an amused grin on his face that twinkles in his eyes, as adrian keeps walking and leans over to sniff.

for a moment, when he pulls the face, he thinks that he's going to have to throw these away. they might not even be fit for animal consumption. then adrian says two simple words and kovi lets out a sigh of relief.

"good. you had me worried there." he tucks the sandwich back into his bag. "maybe next time i cook something i'll invite you over. if you're not scared of someone's cooking skills."

he keeps walking now, heading toward the trail they're closest to.

adrian leaned over, slowly getting closer to the aluminum wrapped food while keeping his eyes on where they were heading. there was no way he wasn’t already looking a little silly.

but then, when he was close enough, he took one quick, sharp, loud sniff.

then he was slowly moving to get properly upright, pulling a face as he evaluated what he’d just taken a whiff of. after a long moment, he nodded.

���smells good.”

and there was no doubt that he’d been completely serious that whole time.

[psioniccrown]

KOVIDER WOLFE — SCENT PROFILE.

a complex scent profile, kovider's scent mixes deep, earthy notes with spicy woodsy and creamy floral. steeped in a base note of AMBERGRIS for a slightly marine, musky, animalistic start, it blends into SANDALWOOD for a subtle, creamy sweetness. accentuated with VANILLA and TUBEROSE to further explore the sweet and spicy creaminess that this mixture can have. it's topped with CINNAMON and MUSK for a warm, sweet, spicy, and powdery scent profile.

[psioniccrown]

he offers him a smile, the tension in his shoulders easing. sometimes, he still walks on eggshells around others. he's still waiting for the other shoe to drop, the part where they all turn to him and say we don't want you here and everything he's been trying to build shatters to pieces, fragmented and bloody.

he follows adrian's finger, moving in the direction he's pointed. the air is still warm enough to not need a jacket. it's refreshing, to say the least. usually, kovi would be running these trails at night, no backpack, just himself and his thoughts. he's glad for the company.

"i followed a pulled pork recipe and made it into sandwiches. i've never had it before." he turns his backpack around and rummages through it until he pulls one out. it's wrapped in foil. "i trust your nose. tell me if it smells bad."

"it's fine." he shook his head, hoping the softening of his features was enough to calm down any doubts kovi had. adrian wasn't exactly known for his ability to comfort others. "you're fine."

he hummed, taking in the plan and finding it one he wouldn't mind following. it wasn't completely far off what he'd normally be doing at these hours, anyway. having someone dining with him out in the woods who wasn't fenn would be different but the son of artemis was learning that different wasn't a bad thing. he could open himself to new experiences, new people. maybe.

"what did you make?" he asked as he pointed to where they should start their trek.

[psioniccrown]

it's rare that someone wants him to get in their head. even rarer when someone was put under mind control. maybe hughie is a different type of demigod, maybe he views these things as nothing more than an every day occurence. it's refreshing, if anything.

kovider locks eyes with him for a moment. there's a faint shimmer over his irises, iridescent, a near translucent glow. "you're thinking of a koala." he says it matter-of-factly, without a reason to debate it. "more like picturing it, but it's still a thought. quite cute." he takes another bite of his food. "you can keep me out, don't worry. i don't make it a habit of just getting into anyone's mind without permission. it happens, sometimes, but less and less these days."

“huh,” hughie mused, lost in his own thoughts for a moment. if the enemy could enter his head that easily, what else could they make him do? the combination of a bloodthirsty teeth-bearing half-crocodile man and someone who could control him was … not good. 

his attention returned to the younger male. “telepath?” he parroted before- hughie's eyes widened as he leaned backwards, surprised. “oh, shit.” he laughed. a what-the-fuck-is-this-world sort of laugh. “so, you can enter people's minds and look inside?" the son of artemis wondered out loud. then with a sudden straightening of posture, he faced kovider fully. “what am i thinking now?” hughie pictured the image of a koala in his head. 

[psioniccrown]

kovider's head tilts to the side, watching adrian curiously as he processes what he just said. he hopes he didn't strike a nerve or make him feel...less than. "i only mean that we're here to protect each other. i can't heal you, but i can keep you safe in other ways." he'd already been thinking of different ways he could augment his powers to help instead of harm. he'd done so on the ship, keeping the blasts and the fire from harming too many of the others.

he hums to himself, hands tucked into the pockets of his shorts. if adrian looked, he could see silver linings of faded scars along his legs, his arms, the back of his neck. he's not afraid to show them anymore. they've made him who he is. "i don't really have a specific path in mind, either. so," he shrugs. "we just go. we'll find our way back eventually." it wasn't like they'd truly be lost. "we can find a spot out there for dinner or breakfast, whatever it is for you. i packed some food i made earlier." he pats his backpack, grinning.

he visibly leaned back, blinking at that. the son of artemis had never thought about the possibility of him being the one who needed protection. even after three different assaults on his mind (all at varying levels of success) adrian hadn't thought of himself as much outside of a line of defense.

"hikes? no." he let out a small breath that almost sounded like a chuckle. "I don't really pay attention to paths when I'm out there. I just... go." was that dangerous? maybe. but he'd never had trouble finding his way back to camp up to this point. "I can follow your lead, if you have somewhere in mind."

as for shifting? he'd play that one by ear, for now.

[psioniccrown]

he still finds it hard to believe that they can nearly do what they want now. kovider doesn't need to constantly look over his shoulder when he walks places. he can be himself. he can smile and have it mean something. he doesn't need a new name and a new backstory. he's still not shed off the old ones entirely, they're part of him, but he can finally be something, someone.

his smile is small, fractured. many of them had gotten lucky. more so when he had turned on them and he didn't sunder their minds like he intended to. he let out the monster inside of him, all that forced down anger and pain. "yeah, that's good. i think we can all use some practice with that. it feels like it's going to be something that happens more than once." it happened with the thought and now with this training exercise. one time too many, if someone asked kovi. he let's out a laugh. "honestly, it wouldn't surprise me if the gods were in on it to help us get better."

"It's pretty rare that I need to do anything. Usually I want to do something, less obligation and way more desire to do so." Now, at least. Previously there was far more of a need to do certain things and act a certain way, and it was pretty easy to fall back in to that in a number of scenarios he wasn't discussing yet, but still. It was nice to start finding himself again.

"And I'll be doing what I can to make sure I'm not the one that falls for it next time. Absolutely got lucky." A natural protection against the charm of others, and absolutely killer support. A laugh escaped before he could help it at the mention of them being robots. That was absolutely the most surreal part of it all. "Don't even get me started. Any attempt at wrapping my head around how they pulled it off is just... A downward spiral I don't need to start slipping down."