New Perspective- closed

[Silas Prince]

stop there and let me correct it ,

i wanna live a life from a new perspective

He didn't like his reaction to him looking at him like that- his thumb brushing over his lower lip with a face that could have been either silent reprimand or a different sort of appreciation given the way his eyes flickered up to him like that. It was never the same, it all depended on the situation and he'd be damned if he were going to allow it to distract him when he was in the company that he was in. Like after all of these years he still had to scrape along on his belly to get approval from the one boy alone. As if that wasn't exactly what he'd felt he should be doing the moment Lucien looked up to him after Silas had finished speaking. And it made him sick, the desperate need he still harbored for his approval, for his acceptance. It was the exact reason behind him not holding the other boys gaze, for his eyes to move off to the other one that had started speaking and pretended to be listening despite the fact that his too long fingers were picking the ends of his sweaters down over the tip, curling up in the excess of fabric and half wishing he could just get up and leave. Only if he stood up at all he'd be followed and there would be a confrontation and right now, with these frayed emotions, he wasn't ready for that. She'd dismissed him today, publicly- turned away from him and moved in the other direction and he'd yet to have time to process it. She'd walked away from him and now Lucien was looking at him like that and it made the pit of his stomach churn- made the skin around his eyes tense as he tried to focus on anything else.

His eyes dropped after another moment, easier to pretend to focus on the block of words scrawled so carefully across the crammed pages of his notebook than it was the features around him. They didn't normally take notice, not really, not to what he said or did- but somehow it all seemed magnified when Lucien was around- like their eyes were drawn more towards him just based off of the company he was in. Which logically made some very little sense, had enough of truth to it to ring as an accurate enough assumption. And if it hadn't become such a tense moment than maybe it might have made him feel better, that he actually seemed to be being paid some modicum amount of attention. As it was his black eyes were trained on the same section of notebook they'd been since they had fallen upon it. "What does it matter either way? It's not like you can actually read the text.” Had anyone else said it, had Silas himself even hinted at it, the reaction would have been different. As it was, Lucien was a Maddock, and a very specific one at that- the slight was expected- expected and almost ignored. At least ignored in truth, even if they made a show of pretending that it wasn't the normal route of things. "I'll get it, I'm tired of sharing your ignorant air anyway" Which meant that maybe he was taking space or- the jarring hit to his shoulders, body curling away from the impact only slightly as he winced, bones jarring within his flesh let him know it was no such thing. It was a demand. Even if no one else would recognize it, he was familiar enough with his friend to know that it was him telling him, not asking, that they were going to speak- that he was to follow him. Ignoring the expectation would only prove to worsen whatever reprimand that the other boy wished to meat out. His neck remained bent for a few more moments, fingers curling further into his sleeves, leg moving nervously for a few beats before he finally pushed his chair back- offering no explanation as he stood and left the table, robes swishing around his lanky frame as he turned in the same direction that Lucien had disappeared into. For once the stacks of papyrus and books offered not comfort or retreat- but confrontation. A confrontation he was walking into despite the misgivings he had concerning it. His feet turned down the aisle he could just barely see the body inside of, coming to a stop as he shoved his hands down deep into the pockets of his robes, moving just barely into the space before he halted completely. Waiting it out.

Lucien was agitated- with him? It shouldn't have mattered as much. He was beyond that. Beyond needing approval for every little thing that he did or didn't do. At least he liked to tell himself that he was, their relationship had grown, his relationships with their entire group had in some ways. Accepted more that he was in other circles even despite his inferior blood. He more than made up for it, had been shown that he could by the very boy who was so obviously not looking at him. Avoiding Silas' eyes entirely. His jaw squared, moved up from where it had dropped in reaction to being ignored, lift like he wasn't bothered by the pretense of the other boy going over the texts instead of him. Steady, like the breath passing through his lungs, he could be that. He was someone more than who he had been- had made himself over in the years he had been here, made himself something else. Someone worth notice. His hair may still have hung limp on some days, and maybe his clothes still tended to be larger than they should have been- but there was enough reason for that, he was busier now even than he had been when he'd come to the school. He had so much knowledge at his fingertips, he had purpose, he had drive. Most people looked at is as if he didn't know how to take care of himself, assumed he liked his hair greasy or his fingertips smudged. Lucien knew, at least Severus liked to think he did, he knew he just forgot. Would remind him that it was overdue, would point out that he'd missed several showers or that the robes he wore had more ink than fabric on them- a feat in and of itself. Maybe he didn't remind him in so many words, but his point came across, and Silas knew it to be a niceness, regardless of the curled nose. He got caught up. Became immersed. His teeth pushed against the inner lining of his lip, nostrils flaring slightly as the golden head angled towards him, eyes moved over him- silently. Just as silently as he returned it, his fingers balling up in the extra fabric inside of his robes.

you come along because i love your face ,
and i'll admire your expensive taste
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tagged LUCIEN words 1,144  notes WELL HELL status FINISHED template nixxy of CAUTION 2.0

[Lucien Maddock]

He had finished awhile ago. Contrary to popular belief, he was actually quite intelligent, and a lot of his classes came very simply to him. Besides, having finished earlier and stuffing his things back into his bag, gave him the upper hand. Made it seem like he was above the school work that the others were still struggling with the other bits of work they were on, and he was leaning here, observing while they spoke and asked questions, trying to assist one another. Watching. Always watching. At least, he was....until Silas spoke up. He nearly never spoke up, at least not in social settings, he spoke to Lucien, and he was fairly used to that. He didn't so much approve of him exercising his vocal chords in public like this. Nobody else seemed to blink twice, but his look was seen where it needed to be. His thumb running over his lower lip in admonishment, over the lack of ability to respond the way that he would have liked to given that they were surrounded by people. Important people, who were casting him side glances even as he lifted his eyes to Silas, just the hint of a smirk playing over his features. Even worse, Silas was acting like he couldn't see him, like he couldn't feel the heat crawling under his skin and improving that sallow pallor. "Uhg, I need the other text...this stops before the Griffin wars," Lucien' eyes rolled finally to the girl and his hand dropped. "What does it matter either way? It's not like you can actually read the text” and the mock shocked expressions had him moving, uncurling himself and straightening to his feet, "I'll get it, I'm tired of sharing your ignorant air anyway" and moved through the circle, his hip contacting Silas' shoulder roughly as he moved past him with no explanation, moving into the stacks

He could feel people looking at him as he passed, not that he returned their glances. He commanded attention, he was expected to. Regal, with the way that he moved. His robes billowing around his frame elegantly as he moved through the space, stacks passing his sides in a blur as his long strides carried him down past the anthropology reference texts and in toward the normally neglected section of magical history. The books so large and heavy that they were almost never used, which was sort of the point. Even his perfectly polished shoes spun on point not even daring to squeak against the stones that comprised the floor, his eyes not even really watching the titles on the spines as he glossed over them, letters not even seeming like letters as his fingers relaxed and curled into agitated fists before he started to pop the knuckles one by one, using his thumb to pull the digits until they popped. Not bothering to look up at the sound of him being joined because it was expected as well, would have been a much bigger deal if he hadn't taken the que and followed him. His jaw ticking silently as he focused on the moving of his own chest, breaking in and out, slowly, calmly, or at least, so it would appear, not bothering to so much as look at Silas, not bothering to speak. Just popping each knuckle, ringing in the silence, and swallowed by the books around them, lost to the dust. When he had finished, his eyes finally rolled in the direction of Silas, waiting.

The problem with Silas was that he never reacted in a way that he was supposed to, in the way that Lucien wanted him to, the way that nearly everyone else responded to him. It was what he was expecting, to be able to control those around him, it was how he liked things, how he operated even. His gaze was never condescending to Silas, not really. The boy knew it too, knew that Lucien had weak points and he hated that. He hated whenever Silas grew more independant without permission or warning. The cogs in the others head always moving too quickly to be followed. Not the predictible ticking of most. Equally irritating and appealing, depending on the day. Not that he would ever verbalize such a thing, and even now, he was being echoed, his actions following as his looked down at the slightly shorter man, despite himself his fingertips started to itch but never moved, his thumb running over the pads of his fingers, as he stared, almost unblinking into the pair boldly staring back at him. As if this were some sort of fucking game. The only anxiety displayed was in the curling of his hands into those near soiled robes. Disgusting. Everything about his was disgusting, or it ought to be. His lip was curling, he needed to, he needed to be disgusted, he was only a half blood, after all. His Prince. Oil and Soot. He spun so neatly on his heel, pin perfect precision until he was perfectly facing the other boy. "Now you've dried up?" the words curling forth from his tongue like smoke "I don't recall, giving you cause to speak...."

---

Tagged: Silas
Words: some.
Wearing: Robes. Perfectly pressed and fitted
Timing: Before Christmas Break, 6th year.

[Silas Prince]

stop there and let me correct it ,

i wanna live a life from a new perspective

Angry, maybe not in the way he became displeased with other people, but Silas could feel it- every line of Lucien's body was taught, controlled as he ran his eyes over Silas' own form- judging, weighing, waiting. He knew the look well enough- especially stretched across the features in front of him. "Now you've dried up?" It took a moment, to place what he meant, the mental cogs in his own head working quickly to reach the conclusion that was proffered. This was about him speaking. In the group he was in. "I don't recall, giving you cause to speak...." He should have expected that, seen it coming- only he hadn't thought about it, the answer to the question being posed on his lips slipping out from between them before he'd even had a chance to consider who all he was surrounded by. Nevermind he shouldn't have known that bit of gossip, only he'd heard it discussed often enough, and Narcissa had told him it was okay for him to speak up now and again concerning trivial matters regardless if they effected anything of importance or not. Only Lucien usually spoke for him, and never in matters concerning this- and he just hadn't stopped to think it through. Evidence that the other body didn't find it as pleasing as others might've so clear on his every feature. “Is that the issue then?” Slow, measured as if he were weighing each word. “I wasn't aware it was something I wasn't supposed to know.” Too much, again his lips moved before his mind had finished forming the thought and he found them turning down because of it- curling towards his chin as he allowed it to drop back into its default position.

He hadn't realized that the other boy's ire had been something he was seeking until he was rewarded with it, the justness of the emotion spreading through his chest. He normally fought having this directed at him, went out of his way to assure that it didn't happen, but somehow-- it wasn't quantifiable, considering how now he needed his approval more even than he normally did- but it was there, this … edge, this need to push at the respected boundary and he wasn't quite sure why. It was rash and without any known merit or agreeable outcome at all and yet the need was there, festering within him. The more he looked at him, the more still the other boy became, it felt right. Even when he stepped up and readjusted him, his voice dangerously slow compared to the normal tenor he spoke at. “That's how your chin should be, aimed with that obnoxiously large feature at the ground. That's how I like you, silent and in proper form” Proper form. Slithering on his belly like the snake they were so named after without the strike. Well he'd been stricken today, his form bent and prodded at already. Dale's lyrics in his head as she'd walked away from him entirely. With them. Not in an opposite direction or with Silas as it should have been. She'd left with them. The group of swine who thought to call themselves by some believed to be clever misnomer. His chin lifted from where it had been pushed, lips parting just slightly so that the whisper that should have been voiced with more authority to ever have been believed fled them. “I had heard that when poking it into business that wasn't one's own it was better to be aimed correctly.”

He was moving away from him and again that was right, even if it didn't feel right. It made more sense this way, an even break, no jagged edges for him to trip up on unexpectedly. Harder than he would have expected it to, the step back away from his person an almost physical blow. Harder to deal with than an actual one- because even though Severus knew Lucius wouldn't stoop to that level over something so beneath him it would have been a better outcome. Would have been easier to explain and rationalize in his own mind days later. He was angry and Severus wasn't being who he normally was when they were absent the myriad of eyes that seemed to watch so closely that of the blonder one's person. “I don't think I'll give you the chance to apologize for that one Silas,” no, it had been carefully worded for one who could see through his lies so clearly. Had he actually stated whose nose he was referring it would have been seen, the quaver in his voice, the slightly deflection of his attention from what was being said at all. He had to read into it on his own, Lucien had spend too many years playing a game that Silas was just now beginning to actually invest in for it to be otherwise. “You don't want me in your business, you can brave this dangerous school on your own,” Better to spiral on ones own- he couldn't, he realized with a sudden clarity into the chaos that had become his thought process the last few hours of the day, deal with having to watch two walk away on words that were intended to make them stay. He wasn't verbally eloquent enough to phrase his need of either body accurately and it would fail him eventually as it had already today. Two hurts couldn't be borne over so similar an injury. His chin notched higher, lips closing into an even thinner line over the words that wanted to batter their way out, his eyes averting before the moisture that had already began to gather behind them could become too clear.

you come along because i love your face ,
and i'll admire your expensive taste
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tagged LUCIEN words 1,144  notes WELL HELL status FINISHED template nixxy of CAUTION 2.0

[Lucien Maddock]

“Is that the issue then?” Who did he think that he was talking to? He hadn't followed him back here to placate him. This wasn't to ease Lucien' feelings, this was to correct a behavior. Irritation surged through him at the audacity of his words. His body was on fire. His face didn't twitch, nary a muscle moved in the slightest. He was still staring in exactly the same way. Never mind how he knew about that, or why he was listening to gossip in the first place. Why he was trying so hard to become social, to make Lucien' group of 'friends' favor him, to look upon him in a kind light. Politics didn't concern this boy. He was unneeded in them. It was a pointless use of a brilliant mind. Silas allowed himself to become too enraptured in popularity and the futile existence of love. Idle conversation shouldn't be where he focused his energy, and apparently, he refused to see that. The fact that Lucien preferred the be the only soul that Silas spoke to, was another issue. “That's how your chin should be, aimed with that obnoxiously large feature at the ground.” He bent at the waist, bringing himself closer to Silas by an inch, “That's how I like you, silent and in proper form”

It should have stayed where it had dropped. That chin shouldn't have lifted again, in fact, he had been half expecting it to drop a little further. He needed to be bottomed out before Lucien could build him back up again. As he always did. It was how it worked, Silas was an investment of his in many ways. For his mind, Lucien would always tell himself. He was a fool if he thought that Lucien hadn't been instantly informed in detail with what had happened today. Nothing happened in this sodding castle that he didn't know about. Nothing. The issue would be dealt with separately, whatever this was, wouldn't be borne. He could hear the edge to the voice as it started, low and building, like whetting a blade. “I had heard that when poking it into business that wasn't one's own it was better to be aimed correctly.” His jaw tensed, his hands shifting to clasp one another behind his back, staring all the while into those eyes. So this wasn't his business? Well neither were those people seated by his things out there. He wouldn't be insulted, not by the likes of him. The fabric of his garments rustled, stretching from the way that his muscles were tensing as he took a single step backward. “I don't think I'll give you the chance to apologize for that one Prince,” his own chin notching once higher in disdain – or so it would appear. The hurt was so deeply veiled. “You don't want me in your business, you can brave this dangerous school on your own,”

He was offended, after all he had done, after all that he would do, this was the thanks he got. This was how Silas wanted to handle things, like the child that he so frequently was. Was this his fault? For attempting to let Silas sit amongst the adults? For literally taking him under his arm. For putting himself at risk, in so many ways for him, and to be cast off with so very little regard to his own feelings, it was almost cruel. So very like those who did what they did to the man next to him, nothing of this sort had ever been done to Lucien, personally. Until now. He turned back to face the books, glossing over the titles once more, so very little movement for something so heavy. “Well then, you've dismissed me...” his voice crystal clear and sharp, like a bell. “No need to dismiss you is there,”

---

Tagged: Silas
Words: some.
Wearing: Robes. Perfectly pressed and fitted
Timing: Before Christmas Break, 6th year.

[Silas Prince]

stop there and let me correct it ,

i wanna live a life from a new perspective

It was hard, pulling the air back through his lungs so evenly, ignoring the hitch that lay on the edge of each one when it would have been so very simple to just give into them. So much easier than this pulling them back in and hoping the other boy would just miss them. He wasn't walking away as he should though. Not in the way that he'd been expected to or should have. When he turned his heel it may have been on him but it was the wrong direction entirely. “Well then, you've dismissed me...” No, he'd untied him. Like the albatross that clung to the ships' sail if he fell so did the ship, and with the currents circling the way that they were it was almost too late. He was setting him free of the obligation to sink with him, allowing him out before he need make the choice that they both knew was looming, graduation so near. “No need to dismiss you is there,” More ragged, he could hear it himself more clearly, the way it caught in his throat. Because he couldn't turn from him and that was the whole problem, why he'd strung the needle in his words as carefully as a woman with her embroidery. He wasn't facing him any longer but no more was he ignoring his presence or fleeing from it and Silas could not willingly be the one to do so himself. “Then leave,” again, whisper soft on the edge of his tongue and yet he wished he could make it sound like less of a plea- just because he meant the inverse it shouldn't have made it through the wrong words, shouldn't have tugged at the edge of his lips as his own eyes looked anywhere but at the profile that had been so caustically presented to him.

“Say...please...” He didn't understand it, couldn't possibly understand the way he was fracturing beneath the oversized robes that he was forced in- the way he needed to fall apart away from the eyes of the person it was for. Penalties be damned he had reached the inevitable conclusion and was following through as he must but that didn't make it easy. A life time spent trying to make the most logical conclusions to follow through on did not prepare one for the cutting away of that which made them the most illogical version of themselves. He was asking him to say please and he almost couldn't get the actual word through whatever encampment of emotion had made its home in his throat, his legs shifting in place beneath the black clouds around them as if it could somehow loosen it without him having to verbally do so. “Please,” with much more, too much, of an actual plea to it even if he was asking so many different and opposing things with the one word. Please don't leave. Don't go. Please don't listen. Please see. Please stay. Please walk away. Please let me fall to pieces on my own. Please don't get hurt. And maybe that was the largest. The biggest reason for this, because as she'd said- by his own blood he would never be one of them, and those who associated with him would be looked at in ill favor. It was best, despite what he thought could have been accomplished, that those ties be cut now. And in any way possible made to look as if the one who was doing so was doing so of their own right. His mind wasn't as closed as it should be given the road he was going down but Silas couldn't help that, not now, couldn't help bolster it- had no right to. “You need to leave.” Because Silas wouldn't be leaving this aisle of stacking for a long time to come. The emotion poured out of one side of his eye, rolling down the oddly carved flesh of his cheekbone and over the jutting of his jaw line.

“Again.” And it didn't matter what it was that he was demanding him to repeat he no longer had the verbal capacity to ask him to do anything, to try and reason with him or explain, because all that remained inside of the shell of the boy he had been was ashes. He had been burning for so long now, denying the forces that tried so hard to stomp him out and reduce him to a mere ember, had sprung up despite the insults rained down atop his greasy head. And she'd taken the logs that built his foundation and left him scrambling to find the pieces. But she'd been right and it would forever wound him to admit it but he prided himself on his ability to see the logic in the situation, to see past the flaw he knew to be in himself to view things only through the scope that he wanted- and now he had to deal with that. His head turned, tried to turn in the fingers because if he looked at him directly the other boy would see the lie on him, was so close that Silas was surprised he couldn't very well taste it in the rigid air between them. And when he could no longer inch his chin in the other direction his black eyes fled for just a second to the glacier blue before him before shutting entirely, fanning over the ridiculous span of emotions that one second had caused and trying to push out the need to not be touched in this moment. His body went rigid instead, desperately failing at leaning into the hand that had grasped him though he would swear he was trying with all of his strength not to- his body would recognize still what his mind was fighting to shut down.

you come along because i love your face ,
and i'll admire your expensive taste
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tagged LUCIEN words 1,144  notes WELL HELL status FINISHED template nixxy of CAUTION 2.0

[Lucien Maddock]

The elven battles of cankerage Read one, A compendium of Ogres no doubt just as boring of a read as the title implied. A brief history of magic was of course, ironically, the largest book on the entire shelf. He was hardly able to keep himself so still and all he could do was to read the titles. His muscles were bound to the point of seizing, knots were forming and he couldn't will himself to move. Like rubber wrapped too tightly around a parcel, he was to the point of snapping apart. Who would have thought that he needed their little arrangement just as much as he knew Silas did. Knew it. Within his chest he knew it, knew it within his gut, his whole body knew it. Knew beyond a shadow of a doubt the disgusting impulses that he had regarding the ugly boy to his left. He was ugly. So very ugly the shadow to his light. Rather, on most days he felt that he was the shadow, and Silas was the light. “Then leave,” his head almost jerked in Silas' direction, almost whipped around to see if he possibly was saying what he thought that he was. Actually asking him to leave, to remove himself from this space, giving him a command. Slowly, he allowed his head to turn, his neck straining at the movement and he spoke through gritted teeth, most of his composure gone. “Say...please...”

“Please,” And like that he lost. His mouth dried and his lips parted, a very, very rare show of outward emotion crossing over his face as his jaw hung a fraction lower on his face than he would ever forgive himself for. Because Silas was pleading with him, he could hear it and the pleading could have been excused as well as any amount of verbal abuse swung his direction, any amount of self loathing or pity would have been handled and squashed, but he that half-blood Prince, was ordering him to go, begging him to leave as if he couldn't stand the sight of him for one final second. him. He was the catch of Slytherin house. Never had there been a more eligible bachelor of SUPREME pure blood breeding and he was being shunned like some silly school girl in love. He felt his shoulders drop and his hands swing to his sides lamely as he stared a full, hour of a minute passed before he could even think again, before his heart kickstarted and allowed thoughts to pass into being once more. “You need to leave.” He NEEDED to what now? He moved, standing until the toes of his shoes were lined perfectly even with the stance of the other, his hand coming to cruelly grasp the odd angles of the hideous face in front of him, elegant fingers clutching into the sallow skin that couldn't have turned any whiter than it already was. “Again.” He commanded, his teeth resuming their grinding.

Couldn't even look at him. The fucking nerve this one had. Was he really so stupid to think that he, THE Lucien Maddock, name of generations before him, name of LEGACY would be so easily turned away from what BELONGED to him? The face in his hand attempting to turn away from him, to turn and look to the stacks on either side, to keep from making eye contact, one more word and he would have been gone. One more chance for Silas to say that this was really what he wanted and he couldn't even respect him enough to look at him to do so. He could see the liquid on the boys face, could see the twisting of his body and the hollow depths wanting to swarm to the surface, because he was a product of who he was, a situational based being. Seemingly unable to make up his mind between turning himself away and leaning into the grip. “You. Will. Answer. Me. Silas,” the name he only whispered in silence, prepared to take what he needed from this boy before proceeding.

---

Tagged: Silas
Words: some.
Wearing: Robes. Perfectly pressed and fitted
Timing: Before Christmas Break, 6th year.

[Silas Prince]

stop there and let me correct it ,

i wanna live a life from a new perspective

“You. Will. Answer. Me. Severus,” Not Snape as it should have been given the situation. Not half-blood or ugly in a voice he could handle. He was demanding of him yet again and Severus' first inclination was to give what was asked solely of the fact whose lips the order was falling from. It was enough for his eyes, though they felt painted shut, to shudder open, for his lips to part in ready compliance- only the moment he did so it was like being hit with the emotion all over again. He couldn't argue this one- he couldn't make Lucius believe him any more than he now did. The words were venom on his tongue, by blood or deed he held no right to want what he did. He worked hard, harder than any other he knew, and it didn't matter in the least because the truth was that he was straddling two worlds with no ready admittance into either one. He was the ugliest and the prettiest of all things and he had been made aware of that by the person in front of him- and now he was forced to remind him. He was the dirt that Lucius strode over on the daily that had no right to muddy those soles. “I cannot.” Not without lying to him. Not without letting him see. Not without tearing a piece of his soul out in irreparable ways.


He was moving him again, though the hands on his face were entirely different. Were anyone else looking on it would be hard to tell the difference but the way the hands rested was different, the way they grazed instead of cut. Lucius was the most layered person he knew, the difference between his caress and his punishment more often than not the barest twist in his wrist if that at all. All of his movements were comprised of very slight difference. It had taken Severus long enough to learn, and yet with it on him now it was more than he could bear, the mere contact holding his body upright. “Never again. The next time you do, will be the last time you speak to me, Severus.” It was supposed to have been- it was the point. An act that needed to be carried out and repercussions borne on the shoulders which had contrived it. Hands fled from contact and Severus' body swayed on the spot, leaning forward than back again as his eyes finally rested completely on the boy in front of him, eyes wide. It wasn't going as it was supposed to, therefore it should not have been a relief of any sort, no matter how it felt due to emotional upheaval. “We'll contrive a punishment later.” His body moved away from Severus' and it was all that was needed, the world giving out from beneath his feet as his form crumpled finally to the floor, knees hitting the stone with an audible crack as his head hung in defeat. A pose that he should have taken upon entering this space maybe, though the difference between the two emotions and what should have happened was stark enough to dry the moisture from his mouth. Lucius spoke of punishment but the worst would be seeing him drug beneath the weight of his own decision concerning Severus. And it was the weight, the crushing weight, that pulled the angular slopes of his shoulders down as his hands hit the floor in front of his splayed knees, curling against the aged rock as if trying to pull it up around his slight form.

“Perhaps this is punishment enough, as I see you.” And he did, though he didn't know that was the exact issue that they- that he- was trying to rectify. He was leaving and that was right, but the context was all wrong- the shuddering breaths leaving Severus' form the only form of movement allowed as the other boy made his way from him, away from the shadows and back into the light. No one would notice the one odd, lanky figure that didn't accompany him back- didn't follow back into their fray. And if they did it would be quickly forgotten. As it should be. His form sunk lower into the wrought stone, knees slid until they were as wide as they could go because he was gone and Severus was alone and there was no shame to the emotion leaking out of his eyes when none where to bear witness. No the shame lay in what he hadn't managed to accomplish. What he well may never manage to accomplish should he be continually met in the same manner- hard enough without that as counter. He sat on the stone and he reflected his mistakes, ran through the issues therein and the failure that seemed ever imminent in his life- and he would sit there for hours to come. For the list was long, and his memory of it was even longer.

you come along because i love your face ,
and i'll admire your expensive taste
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tagged LUCIEN words 1,144  notes WELL HELL status FINISHED template nixxy of CAUTION 2.0

[Lucien Maddock]

He wasn't looking at him. He wouldn't look at him. It was infuriating. Even when his eyes opened he wasn't looking at him, not really, not enough and it was making his head pound, or at least he was going to claim it as his head. “I cannot.” Air returned to his body and his grip on the jaw slackened, but not let go entirely. His eyes were scanning the face in front of him, moving from the lidded eye of one to the other, waiting for anything more. But receiving nothing, of course he would get nothing. His tongue ran over his bottom lip, wetting them too slowly for it to be any functional purpose. His hand ran along the side of Silas' face and up to his hair, pushing the unkempt locks back from his face, urging his head backward ever so sightly, at least it was the answer he had been wanting. “Never again,” he reprimanded softly, “the next time you do, will be the last time you speak to me, Silas.” the contrast of his words to his touch strikingly different. His other hand almost lifting to his face, almost lifting to touch him as he had been wanting to this whole time, and yet, both hands dropped hastily. “We'll contrive a punishment later,” he stepped backward, his cloak moving around his legs, at if trying to keep him here, but he wasn't sure he would. If he left now, at least it was on his terms.

He remained faced forward just long enough to see Silas sink under the lack of contact, of having Lucien' hands removed from his person and he melted, in front of him. Something no man would want to do in front of an audience. The way he melted and stilled. He took two paces backward with a solemn shake of his head. He didn't want to be walking away, he wanted to have Silas lapping at his very being, and he couldn't, couldn't allow that sort of talk to be permissible in any form or context. That wasn't how this worked. “Perhaps this is punishment enough, as I see you,” he clucked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, a single shaking breath the only telling sign that this was paining him, even more so as he clamped his teeth around the inside of his cheek and turned on his heel, snatching exactly the right book from the shelf as he passed, almost as an afterthought, leaving Silas to go and rejoin the group.

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Tagged: Silas
Words: some.
Wearing: Robes. Perfectly pressed and fitted
Timing: Before Christmas Break, 6th year.