in the bleak midwinter

& to a place i come where nothing shines

Knock knock.

Who's there?

Who knows, Sah?

Better answer the door and find out.

Or, you know, don't. It's up to you.

---

A thunderous knocking can be heard at the front door to Sah's home, loud enough to echo through to the surrounding rooms. No voice(s) accompany the sound, and after a few seconds, it fades to a faint scratching, and then silence.

Any attempt to look at who might be there without opening the door will be scuppered by the endless, deep darkness, and not even the brightest of torches will illuminate whatever is lurking outside.

Table coding by Sky

Sah

Sah is immediately awake. The bizarreness of the pattern and the lack of a voice has him sending the wolves to guard the twins as he made his way downstairs. Once he gets close to the front door, lighting crackles to life, ready to strike at any moment's notice. LongNight had been calm the past few years, but he had certainly expected this one to swerve back the older times. Times that had left bite scars on his shoulder from metallic and monstrous teeth.

Taking a deep breath, he uses his telekinesis to unlock and open the door, lightning still ready. If whatever lay beyond attacks, he'll be ready to strike. Nothing will get past him. He won't let it. Not when his kids are sleeping upstairs.

~
Sah readies is lighting and opens the door with telekinesis. The wolves are elsewhere in the house guarding Soleil and Luka.

I think therefore I am,
But what if all I do is bleed?

& to a place i come where nothing shines

Is that so, Sah?

How sure are you that nothing will get past you? How sure are you that something already hasn't done so?

Are you willing to bet your life on it? Better yet - are you willing to bet Luka's?

As the Wild Thunder uses his magic to unlatch and swing open the door, it will be his son's broken body that spills inside, raked and lacerated by claws that seem both inhuman and not, as if delivered by a woman's delicate hands tipped with wicked talons.

Upon the boy's back, a note is pinned - yes, pinned.

Thank you for returning what you took - as a goodwill gesture, here is your son, alive.

Consider this a warning to tread softly in any future negotiations.

Trade or no, further disrespect will not be tolerated.

~ Take care.

Table coding by Sky

I heard you screamin' that you want me dead

I'm a nobody. Things like this aren't supposed to happen to nobodies.

The snow is cold, he knows it must be, but he can't tell whether it's blood or water clinging to his lips and nose where he lays propped carelessly against his own front door. How long has it been? It had felt like hours, but care had been necessary in his carving - he's awfully weak, you know, or so he'd been told. It took more care not to kill him. He's not sure he'll ever forget that it had been a choice. He doesn't have the consciousness to weep, but he would if he did. It makes no sense to feel grateful or indebted to his would-be killer, but the senseless beast inside each human that cares only for survival hunkers in the snow and blood and whines a pathetic litany of thanks.

The hurt that comes as the door opens and he falls through is a distant echo beneath the present agony. The fall jolts him from somewhere timeless and twilight, summoning enough consciousness for his throat to work and spasm uselessly around bile and hoarse vocals. "D'd," he gurgles wetly into the dark. It's not the first time Luka has said it; called, begged, screamed it. Luka only prays this is the last time he'll have to do so. There's no energy left to plea again for his father to save him.

Is that what the voice says inside of your head?

Luka

Sah

Sah had mentally prepared for just about anything. Not this. Never this. The Wild Thunder lets out a choked sound and rushes forward to cradle his son. He almost doesn't believe his eyes. He'd just seen Luka a few hours ago and had assumed that his son was in bed like he usually was at this time. But no. Lilly's mental cry that one of the twins was missing confirms it. Somehow, someway, in the span of a scarce few hours, Dahlia had taken his son and mutilated him.

"Gods, Luka. Pup, I'm here." The hybrid wastes no time in activating his healing magic, letting its warmth soak into his injured child. Bruises mend as flesh is knitted back together. The words are destroyed but they are forever engrained in his mind's eye. Grief and guilt at failing his child tighten his throat. But as the injuries begin to fade, an equal rage rises up. It's burning and all-consuming, and Sah has never lusted for someone's blood like this before. It almost scares him.

When tomorrow comes, he'll have an internal war. Righteous anger and pride making him desire instant revenge and a sharp response to this horrific act. Respect, she wants? Well, she's shredded what meager bit Sah had had with this horrific act. It's almost laughable really, in a distant kind of way. Sah had stolen a fucking bird and had told her that he didn't have the authority to return it. After speaking with his fellow Halovians and finding a workaround for diplomacy, the bird had been returned, and an apology had been made. But this? This was her response? In a horrible, twisted way, it was akin to a toddler throwing a tantrum. But all of these thoughts that would happen tomorrow.

Right now, the only thing on Sah's mind is his son. He pulls Luka close once he's certain it won't cause further damage, pressing a kiss to his son's forehead, "I'm here. You're safe." He is. Sah will ensure it.

I think therefore I am,
But what if all I do is bleed?

I heard you screamin' that you want me dead

There's a faint, horrifying metallic clink as the pieces lodged in his skin that had been keeping the note pinned to his back are forced out by his father's magic. They fall to the floor, leaving small smears of blood on the hardwood where he's mopped melted snow off more times than he can count.

The injuries knit themselves, but the exhaustion lingers. His father's energy is the conduit for the repairs but Luka's body only has so much to give in return. Feeble breaths become more ragged instead of easing as life comes more firmly into his grasp - terror rising now that there is no frailty to smother it. As his dad pulls him close and kisses his brow, Luka's hands find any piece of his father he can find and hold so tight his hands shake with equally as much strain as fear.

"I was - in bed," he chokes, voice feeble and younger than his years. "There's no safe. I'm not - we're not -" Luka can still feel the nakedness of his back where his clothes and skin were shredded, the sticky layer of blood that healing magic can't erase, all of it underscored by shivers that start from being subjected to the cold beyond their open doorway. Or perhaps he's shaking apart from the fear that has been injected deeper than Sah's magic can reach.

And he cries, tears streaking past dried blood to set it running fresh in diluted rivers down his cheeks. Smears of crimson stain his dad's shirt as Luka hides his face in it, trying to find the safety he's always felt in his father's arms. Then he cries harder -because no matter whether he closes his eyes or burrows deeper, presses harder and closer, he doesn't feel it. It's been carved out of him alongside every pound of flesh the Family had taken as punishment for choices Luka never made. Now there is only darkness, and for all Sah holds him close, he doesn't feel any less vulnerable.

Is that what the voice says inside of your head?

Luka

Sah

Sah's eyes harden from above Luka's line of sight even as he keeps his voice soothing. So, he had been right. Fuck. "I'm working on fixing that." The barrier wouldn't stop the Family, but surely there was something that he could do.

His son breaks down crying and the Wild Thunder has to squeeze his own eyes shut to keep his tears at bay. "I've got you." He can break down later. Not now. Sah gently picks up his sobbing child and carries him to the bathroom. The tub is filled with magic, and he slowly lowers Luka in, keeping one arm around the young man all the while to keep him steady. And because Sah would sooner have his hand cut off than remove it from where he holds his son.

New clothes are created and set aside for when Luka is ready. For now, Sah gently scrubs Luka's back of the blood and grime, rumbling quietly in an attempt to soothe. As the red stains the Wild Thunder's hands, he knows he'll never be able to wash it off. His actions, although made in his best judgement, had done this. His attempt to deflect the Family's anger from Halo had somehow directed it at his son. He feels sick with himself, as if he doesn't deserve to be running his fingers through Luka's hair as it slowly turns black again.

"We'll find a way. We always do." Even though their world had ended. Even when they had died. The Lovi family had come back to life in a new world, a new life.  They were survivors to the core, adaptable and forever loyal to each other. They would make it through this, one way or another. If Sah has to triple down on gaining power so that he can tear Starfall down by his own hands and wrap them around Dahlia's throat, he will.

I think therefore I am,
But what if all I do is bleed?

I heard you screamin' that you want me dead

The only sentiment that doesn't feel painfully hollow and far too late is the strong, guttural, I've got you. Only that feels true, and only because Luka can verify it with his own eyes and body. Safety, hope, optimism - those are concepts darkened and shattered by the violation of his childhood haven, his body, his mind. The godlike image of his father as the man who could fix anything and everything has been shattered and discarded. What Luka had once thought was a visage carved of granite is now revealed to have no more resilience than a sandcastle when compared against an entity as grand as the ocean. Or maybe it is Luka who is made of sand and soil, pitiful and formless and scarcely strong enough to be worth treading on.

He sits half-curled in the tub, lanky legs askew and eyes unblinkingly fixated on the way the water darkens and turns into muddied shades of rust. Soap bubbles collect on the surface in jarringly cheery antithesis to the bloody depths they accent. He flinches each time his father's hands cross paths with wounds that exist only as faint but extensive scars now, bracing for pain that doesn't come. Hysterically, he wishes magic couldn't mend so quickly. It doesn't feel like his mind can come to terms with the fact that so much agony had transpired and is now simply gone. It makes the wounds in his mind all the more discordant.

If a tree falls in the woods and nobody is around to hear it, did it make a sound? If Luka was ripped apart until he felt Ludo's rags brushing against his spine but nobody saw it and his body doesn't show the evidence, did it really happen?

He blinks hard to bring himself back into his body, uncertain how long he was...wherever he was. His skin and hair are clean now and the water is still lukewarm which is a positive sign. "I don't wanna go back to my room," he croaks, and he can't even blame the hoarseness on having screamed so much. It's only weakness. "I can't. Please." He's not sure he can sleep in that bed ever again. Rising on coltish legs from the bath, dripping water and aimless in his sudden need for movement, Luka clambers out gracelessly and reaches for the towel beside the clothes his dad had conjured. He's not certain of anything right now, but he knows his dad will help him through these next steps. Not just getting dressed, but whatever else may await in the bleak, sunless days that lie ahead.

Is that what the voice says inside of your head?

Luka

Sah

Sah makes a quiet shushing sound, "You won't. Never again. Lilly is going to grab Soleil, and we'll all sleep downstairs tonight. In the morning, we'll move to a new home." They wouldn't stay here. Couldn't. After helping Luka get dressed, the Wild Thunder can't resist scooping up his son again and carrying him into the living room. Placing his pup on the couch, Sah moved so that he was between Luka and all points of entry and the house, before kneeling down to run a gentle hand through his son's hair.

"And I won't leave you or Soleil's sides until you get sick of me and beg for me to give you a moment of privacy." In other cases, it might have been a joke. But right now, Sah means every word.

I think therefore I am,
But what if all I do is bleed?

I heard you screamin' that you want me dead

It's a jarring, abrupt decision, and Luka can scarcely imagine how his father will get it done in a single day, but maybe there is a little bit of unshakable faith left in his bones because he doesn't question it at all. Or maybe he just can't stomach the idea of the alternative. He's terrified to sleep next to his sister and the wolves, terrified to think his own nearness might doom them all, but sleeping alone might finish him off without the Family lifting another finger.

He's far too large to be carried, but his dad does it with hardly a breath of exertion so Luka goes limply wherever he's meant to be placed. As his dad ruffles his hair, Luka reaches up to grab at his dad's wrist and buries his face into the man's palm, shutting out the world with darkness that feels far more natural than the one beyond these walls. "Never gonna happen," he mumbles into his dad's hand, fingers trembling around the Wild Thunder's wrist. It takes everything Luka has left to let him go, but the promise of his sister's presence is enough to convince himself to do it.

Luka sits on the couch like a discarded puppet, listening to his dad's footsteps and the quiet passing of wolves through dark hallways, and he prays for the sun to return.

- Fin

Is that what the voice says inside of your head?

Luka