strikingly-rhys

[strikingly-rhys]

Should I care about who that is?

Wow, Lysander really does look just like you.

[strikingly-rhys]

For good reason, and talking is not a good idea.

Rhys.

I feel like we've been avoiding the other. We need to talk.

[strikingly-rhys]

Wallowing seems beneath us as victors in the situation, but here we are, fucked over again by goddamn demon princes.

Join the fucking party and wallow with me, hot stuff.

[strikingly-rhys]

Sorta bad if yours is as brooding as I am currently. Who are you, anyway?

You and my Rhys certainly aren't that different. It's not a bad thing, actually, kind of comforting.

[strikingly-rhys]

Well, if it isn't Papa O– welcome to the shit show. I'm afraid that your listening ear won't be hearing anything for a bit.

You know how well of a listening ear I possess, my boy. That hasn't changed.

[strikingly-rhys]

Sure, it's sitting for now. Then it's eventually about talking about my feelings when I would rather not.

We don't have to talk, you know. We can just sit.

[strikingly-rhys]

I don't want to talk right now.

[strikingly-rhys]

Didn't have to say that out loud for me to know that, Envy.

I will refrain from asking why that was even an option. The witches are ready, at least those that are willing to participate.

I know a simple text message would've done the trick, but I'm a dramatic asshole who can't help himself.

We're going through with the resurrection spell. Just waiting on your end.

[strikingly-rhys]

It would be a long road to come to terms with the fact that even if he gets his sister back, there would always be a gaping wound inside of Rhys that would never be fixed– even with how much Uriel said it would get better. Happiness was a farce, a fantasy, a made-up myth to placate those unhappy with their life and trajectory. He was a realist, though, and knew that maybe there was never a time he was truly happy; he was just happy with the people in it, and once that was stripped away from him, there was nothing left except for skepticism. Rhys only nodded, having no energy to push the other away– ignoring that he didn't want to. "No, you are far more observant than most, but knowing what I must do and seeing it are two different things." Rhys knew the lengths he would go and had come to terms with that since the moment the curse had taken place, but knowing that someone from his childhood who held such hopes that he could return to who he was before Celeste was taken was watching? It was too much on his plate, introducing the small feeling of doubt he couldn't risk having. A look of surprise flickered across the First Son's face with the movement of his hand to now rest against Uriel's cheek; the action too short to react to, feeling Uriel's skin brand against his fingertips before he was gone completely, stepping away and creating a fissure of distance. Before Rhys could even open his mouth to speak, deny, or complain about anything, El dropped a bomb on him that he should have expected coming but still took him by surprise. The two had been dancing around one another - tiptoeing the line delicately until they separated and where Rhys was too... nervous to go back to, yet it was laid out in black and white. "You love me," Rhys echoed, his hand dropping to his side in a closed fist to conserve Uriel's warmth before he fell silent, eyes dropping to the floor between them. "An eternity is a long time, Uriel, and I don't think you should keep going with this. I don't... know if I can ever give you what you need or deserve. It's not fair to you."

Weakness was all about perspective, Uriel understood how anyone and especially Pandora's own son would consider her actions as of late a weakening of who she was as the First Witch, but he didn't need to proclaim that the mercies she displayed were mercies even Celeste can be proud of. "It's okay if you don't know. The point is, you won't be on your own when you do figure it out." Rhys was stubborn and guarded, they both were in their own ways, but Uriel wasn't given the heavy weight of a renowned title as the First Son. The infamy came with its own trials and tribulations, the expectations sometimes forcing the man to be something he wasn't often. The calm and collected, the level-headed leader who required a cap on his overwhelming emotional state. He witnessed the struggles watching the First children train for the day they would take over the coven, knowing his two best friends were on the cusp of greatness as his leaders. El imagined the life he'd have at Rhys' side however that would've panned out, but Celeste's kidnapping and death ripped apart the chance. "Despite what you believe, Rhys, I'm not oblivious to what will happen with the coven. I know what that resurrection spell will take." Uriel's gaze fell upon the hand pressed to his chest, raising Rhys' palm briefly to cup to his own cheek before Keilah's advice came to mind. No more dancing around the bush. "Yet, both the old and this new Rhys continue denying what I believe they want." The witch gently released all contact and took a small step backwards, breathing a sigh before the words came, "You confirm I'm a soft spot, but you don't say the reasons. I spent those years at your side thinking you could see me as nothing more than your sister's best friend. Thinking I was doing something wrong, that I wasn't right for you. The kiss happened, our moment, and it's as if everything in my life became clear what I wanted. You can keep pushing me away or pull me close, Rhys, it doesn't matter what dance we do." El breathed another exhale, no turning back now. "I love you. I have always loved you and I will continue to for my eternity."

[strikingly-rhys]

It was so close that Rhys could taste it. The coven was back under his control, those who stood against his family's name no more, and his sister alive and well once more, taking their place as was intended. Things were finally, finally, returning to normal. Taking the bottle with a nod, the First Son followed suit to take a swig of his. An almost celebratory toast. Rhys nodded along to Kai's explanation; having someone who knew the modern-day coven running the ground beside him made sense. "Solid plans," Rhys responded finally, "I agree. I don't want to be one to take away the right of revenge, so your foster parents are all yours– just do me a favor and make them suffer before snuffing out the life from their eyes."

"We fuck the coven over and we get your sister back. We've always had an understanding, Rhys, we aren't so different if you think about it. And I can't say that about many people." Kai pushed off from the table and yanked open the refrigerator, pulling out two beer bottles and setting one in front of Rhys before cracking open his own and taking a swig, "Being an enforcer gives me a little insight on their defenses. You need a second-in-command who knows the ins and outs of the coven from every corner, including their weakest spots in the security system. I know the best points of entry like the back of my own fucking hand, so I'll get you and the others in." The witch lifted a shrug, "As long as you leave my foster parents to me, you and I will make a dynamic duo. Agreed?"

[strikingly-rhys]

We didn't even try, you folded like someone undeserving of the title First Witch when you have always been more. We all are, and yet you're still choosing to protect them. The Princes didn't protect her– they let her rot. I don't care about the Romeo and Juliet love story that my sister supposedly had. Why do you continue to side with them?

As powerful as you think we may be as a family, Rhys, there is no telling if we truly would not have fallen ourselves facing the King with just us three as a collective. If the Princes did not survive, then we wouldn't see any hope of gaining your sister back, but that's not the only reason they deserved to live. If you are angry at me, dear, then don't take this out on them. We already ended one war, I am begging you not to start another. Please, Rhys.

[strikingly-rhys]

The witch wanted to argue Uriel's words, say that his mother was indeed weak, becoming a shell of who she was when, in reality, he was the confused one. Rhys knew this, but all he could rely on was the fight, his anger, and his revenge. Anything else was too confusing to come to terms with, like his mind was too broken to wrap around the implications that the First family was wrong. "I don't know how," he finally responded, voice distant like it almost hurt him to admit it. Rhys was the First Son– he didn't admit shortcomings or faults, and everything was done with intention, but it simply never was that way with Uriel. He was always forced to face the things no one else prompted in him when he was in the presence of the other witch. His gaze moved from Uriel's face to where their hands were connected over El's chest, feeling the slight change in his heartbeat. Rhys frowned, both at what he felt and at Uriel's words. Things were starting to add up to something that shouldn't exist between them with so much time past, wouldn't exist in their future. Not with what he had to do next. "Maybe you shouldn't have come back. You'll hate what I need to do to the coven to get Celeste back." It was something that even Rhys of old never thought himself truly capable of. He and Celeste were both powerful in their own right, but he was always the outwardly dangerous sibling. The one that could kill without barely a thought, needing to suppress himself so he didn't snap on unsuspecting coven members, but even this... a complete annihilation of men and women to get enough power for a resurrection? Sure, it wasn't just him along during the siege, but it was him leading the charge. Every death hung on his shoulders. "Maybe you'll see that Rhys again one day, but it won't be anytime soon. Not yet, if ever, but I guess we both share that you are a soft spot."

Normally, Uriel would be a little more hesitant undressing the witch if others were present in the room, but this was a private moment between two people with a long history of the back-and-forth game. His push and Rhys' pull on a constant cycle that even in his absence, they were picking up right where they left off. "Her change of heart is not a weakness. I know you're exhausted, Rhys, I know this anger you've been carrying seems as if it is sucking the life right out of you. You cannot fully experience the happiness until you give yourself the permission to feel it." El's fingers slowly fanned along the back of the male's hand, his heart skipping a beat from the close proximity. His body betrayed him, no doubt, how much he missed having Rhys in his world. The foolishness he can successfully run from the problems, from his feelings, and the family he left behind. "I can pretend that the whispers something big was about to happen in the city were why I returned, but you were the only reason I came back." The witch confessed. "I don't hate you, Rhys. I could never hate you." I think I'm falling for you. Those were the unspoken words Uriel couldn't bring to his lips. "You are the same First Son I knew somewhere deep down through the rage. I see it in your eyes, I feel it in your touch. It's in the fact that you haven't told me to leave."

[strikingly-rhys]

Rhys was aware of the intimacy this would appear to have on anyone outside of the two witches; in a way, it was more than that to him. It was like Uriel was stripping his armor away from his body and cracking the anger that shielded him like a shell until only the exhaustion was left, and he was weary. "She's my mother, and I no longer know who she is. Maybe all I want is the anger, I don't know what else I would have without it. I'm tired, El. It's like my world is falling apart again when I'm supposed to be happy– I'm so close to having my sister back again, yet everything is turning on its axis." Did he think about it? Somehow, exchanging his life for his sister if the Devil would allow it? Sacrifice himself so that his sister could remain unchained in the mortal realm? After all, in his mind, he was better equipped to handle the darkness that Hell carried, but he would have been consumed where his sister survived as long as she could. "You act as though I'm the only thing keeping you alive when you're the one that was gone for so long." His eyes slipped closed, feeling the steady rhythm of Uriel's beating heart until he could look at the witch again; brows furrowing. "I don't understand you, El. You should hate me or, at the very least, look at me with some sort of disgust. I'm some sort of twisted version of myself, and yet you still look at me like I'm the same First Son you knew. I don't even know who he is anymore."

Stripping him down was certainly a new venture Uriel never thought he'd have the chance to do, but he saw this as the other slowly letting him in instead of outright dismissing him from his life. El recalled what Ezekiel told him, do not allow Rhys to push him away. "I do not know what her reasons would have been lying to you, but I think for her, knowing you is knowing herself. Knowing your abilities and the anger that's festered over too many years. It isn't fair she would be walking on eggshells around her own son, but I'd understand from knowing you. That doesn't mean the rage is all there is to you, Rhys." Uriel removed the chest plate after unlatching the bindings and maneuvered to Rhys' side, grabbing the piece it had been attached to against the male's back. Setting both pieces down, he moved to stand before Rhys again, his hand ever gently brushing the other's as he maneuvered. "We would have Celeste back, yes, but then I would lose you. Rhys, I will stand at your side, fight as you take your coven back for good. Prove it like you need me to, but I'd lose my fucking mind if you died for revenge." El reached over and took the witch's hand, placing it over his heart, "Give yourself something to live another day for. Fight for me."

[strikingly-rhys]

I don't get it. I don't understand how our success would have been contingent on their lives. We are the Firsts– princes living or dying shouldn't have been even part of our success plan. Since when did we grow so weak that we needed them.

I am sorry that I didn't come to you about it, Rhys, but we were running out of time. Losing the battle against the King would've been inevitable if I didn't break the curse quickly.

[strikingly-rhys]

Get used to crushing skulls because you're right: coven's next. Then we get my sister back.

I haven't felt that good crushing a skull in a long time. The coven's next, am I right?

[strikingly-rhys]

It wasn't lost on him that each piece that Uriel took off his armor and gently placed aside mirrored him– chipping away at the anger until only his fragility was left, except he couldn't allow that. The anger and hate were all that Rhys had– he didn't know who he was without it. "She used my blood, and she lied from the beginning. I wouldn't have judged not giving the King or Princes a loophole. They didn't deserve the kindness of one– but she lied to me." He didn't know what he was angriest about anymore, his anger splitting off into so many different directions, but it was starting to lean towards the fact that the one person who was supposed to have his back throughout the years never did. Rhys didn't bother confirming that Uriel was correct; he merely listened to him as he spoke his sage advice, even though he knew it was coming. "Dangerous, but it's the only option I know, El," he finally replied, flexing his hands and arms once they were out of the stiff armor. "I died a long time ago, but at least if anything is to happen to me, you'll have Celeste back. Nothing compares to having her back."

Uriel has never seen the Firsts in their battle gear, so even the First Son allowing him to aid in removing it felt like a tremendous honor a select few were given. And it is not as if the two didn't trust each other enough, but this seemed...personal. intimate. Setting the other gauntlet with his twin, the witch ceased his movement for a brief moment as their gazes locked, "The Princes. I don't blame you for still blaming them and I'm not judging your anger at your mother for breaking the curse. She should've told you first." El worked on the vambrace of each arm, deciding to remove everything in order as he saw it. "What's your plan then after they have their use bringing Celeste back? The might of your coven against fully charged up demons? I know you know how dangerous that is." He finished the armor covering the arms before fiddling with the chest plate, "Don't die for this, Rhys. Not saying you will, but I worry about you even when you prefer I didn't."

[strikingly-rhys]

He would have had a clever quip if he had the energy, but he didn't. Instead, Rhys resigned himself to watch Uriel as he analyzed his armor, finally settling on a piece to take off first. Never had he ever let anyone assist him in removing his armor– yet this was El, the chink in his armor, Rhys' weakness. Rhys raised a brow at the question, finally pulling his eyes away from Uriel to look at anything but the other witch, shrugging. "You know me, Uriel, at least enough to guess what's bothering me," he bit out after a while, his dark eyes finally flicking back to El again, "there's nothing new to talk about."

"You're not a dick of a First all the time." Uriel took in the state of the First Son, a breath nearly hitching in his throat at the state of Rhys' armor, white in color if it weren't for the blood of...he didn't know what. His eyes bounced from the armor's chest plate to the discarded cape before deciding on starting small. El stepped forward and reached out a hand for the witch's wrist, raising it slightly so he can begin unbuckling the straps of the gauntlets. As he slightly worked on one side, he cast his gaze up after a silent moment. "Something more is bothering you, Rhys I know it is." Uriel slid off the cuff and placed it aside before moving to unbuckle the left. "Do you want to talk about it?"