Date: 13th February 2025

So it was all just an act. The big secret of how to survive an Athanatos was nothing more than a simple charade. No that was far too simple, it was a mere stroke of the wider picture. The truth came like a slice to the throat, precise, deadly and lethal. The only way to survive the Athanatos was for them to want you to. It was by far the most honest thing she had said. The damning reality that power always won, that we were mere foot soldiers in a war of their creation while they sat fat bellied profiting from it, deriving pleasure from it. Rich or poor, muggle or pure, it was the same fight he had been competing in his entire life. Always at the whim of the one with more cards, knowing his hand was empty.

Taylor was not the same as he, she had family ties, she had a life living in their world or at the very least adjacent to it and yet even she could bleed. What chance did he possibly have? A rhetoric question for he already knew there was none. Not without her help. and even then likely not at all, not unless he could convince Gideon he was worth the effort. Gideon was his destruction and his lifeline. However, if the boy wanted pain, wanted someone who succumbed to it and let it control him perhaps he had found the perfect target in Matthew. The young snake proved time and time again how he couldn't control his actions and under the domineering presence of Gideon that wildfire could only burn hotter. It was just like she said, Gideon wasn't the fire he was the hands, the hands that set the blaze.

The chill that ran along his spine with each of Taylor's words and the coldness she summoned alongside them could have rivalled death itself. Hairs stood on edge and the ghoulish feeling that someone had just walked over your grave tingled deep within just under the surface where he couldn't reach to cast it away. Her words were like corrupted poetry, ramblings from the diary of a lune. They spoke of a story, spoke of her own. An experience she had lived through passed down to the next victim. In her cold eyes he could already see the suffering he would endure, became acutely aware there was no escape in the physical world. Matthew would have to steel himself to survive and even then, every time his mind dreamt up a solution she crushed it, steel mere clay in her graceful hands.

"You want to survive? Then never flinch. Not when Giddy jokes. Not when Giddy touches. Not when Giddy hurts you and tells you it’s for your own good, especially not when it feels good. That’s when you’re already his. Never let him know which piece of you matters most. Not your pride. Not your friends. Not even your shoes.”

None of it haunted him nearly as eerily as that remark. The way she had to ask if he wanted to survive. As if it would be simpler to accept the inevitable, as if others had. The room grew dangerously cold within his own skin. His body begged to flinch at her words, begged to run and hide and a million other impossible things. His heart longed for the comfort of his bed in Glasgow away from all the crap he had faced. His magic desperately tried to comfort the chill but only made it worse, for without it perhaps he would've been better off. Life would never have been simple for the boy given his story, but it likely wouldn't have ended prematurely. The consequence he now faced.

Of course it was all a lie though. Matthew would never give up magic, it was the one thing that had made him feel special. The young boy could still remember the feeling of being told, how suddenly the mismatched pieces of his life suddenly found their purchase and connected together. Magic was a gift and worth every cost. Not to mention that it wasn't even the only lie. Matthew was not just scared, despite everything his body told him there was flutters of excitement within the waves of fear. Little hints of wonder at what he could become with Gideon's sculpting. For certainty it would be someone he never thought possible, but need that be a bad thing? The thought was almost as dangerous as Taylor's warnings. Bringing to his eyes light dampness he fought to restrain. Crying from the conflict residing within him. Two halves of a coin neither perfect, both unsure how to proceed.

Then as if inconsequential she made a comment that shuddered his entire body and turned his own eyes on her with concern and regret. Matthew had no idea what it meant exactly, no idea just how much damage Gideon could muster in convenience but he could feel the weight of it. Sometimes the heaviest burdens are the easiest to throw away, pretending their meaningless. However, the what mattered little for before he knew it he had uncrossed his legs and leant forward in a genuinely compassionate gesture. The girl was an Athanatos, such was clear from her callous grace and ease in manipulating her voice and form but she was also a girl. A girl who had suffered things he could only foolishly hope to avoid.

Voice light and raw he spoke timidly at first knowing she'd likely perceive it as a weak gesture and mark him already dead for it, "I'm sorry, Taylor. I know that it likely means very little and perhaps you don't want an apology, it certainly doesn't change anything that happened to you but there it is anyways." A small sigh causing him to pause he watched her close, "You shouldn't have had to go through any of that. You shouldn't still, and if I can help you now or ever I will. Thank you for trying to help, even if it was just to protect yourself." Lowering his gaze away from her he sat back with none of the false casualty he wore before just disappointment, "I hope you're the one to make it, I don't know you, in fact I'm not even sure if I particularly like you or not, but you deserve better. Maybe in another life we could have been friends." An unlikely sentiment but one he wanted her to have nonetheless.

Pushing back from the table he looked down at himself: crocs, a vintage jumper and his father's old jeans. Trailing up to her delicate dress and scarf, to the gilded walls of this lavish palace he knew he didn't belong. Gideon would find no trouble finding out exactly what he loved because he carried with him everything he loved everywhere he went. Matthew was no Athanatos, he wouldn't survive by Taylor's means, but survive he must. Lightly nodding his head towards the girl he bid her farewell, "Good luck Taylor, I hope I'll see you around."

Interacting with Taylor Athanatos @Aamon Athanatos @Solomon Lear