abraxaslogs | I want to live, not be afraid and forsaken [open]

Wilhelm is halfway to saying that he's glad, that he was worried — despite the silence that had calcified around them on their way out of the woods, despite the disaster crashing down all around and the guilt devouring him whole, he was worried about Lucifer. All of this gathers in his countenance, because he has always been an open book.

But then Lucifer poses that question, and all the potential follow-ups have Wilhelm's heart plummeting into his gut. His fingers tighten into a fist around the earbuds. He glances away, feigning a casual interest in something happening down the beach. (In fact, nothing is happening. He's not even looking all that closely. The entirety of his attention remains pinned to Lucifer although his eyes aren't.)

"Yeah, sure."

Lucifer's whole life story is about reading people so that he knows how to break them. Twist their souls like pretzels. So whatever it is going on with the kid isn't hidden well at all.

Is this what he has to do now? Teach a prince how to lie? Not just with words but body language? That's almost as dicey as telling Istredd how to interact with people.

"Who were you with? In the Hunting Grounds." It's likely not a question Wilhelm is expecting. But it's a bit of a... well, sore subject. And Lucifer needs to know. "Tell me it wasn't someone from Cadens."

Not that Thorne would be much better. If Lucifer found out someone from their faction thought bringing the kid into the woods was a good idea and then losing him, Lucifer was going to be ticked. But after pushing that Cadens attacked him in the Hunting Grounds, and the whole meteor strike, well. It's better to add a bit more fuel to the fire if he can.

It's all about emphasis.

It's not the question Wilhelm was bracing himself for. That's clear enough in the way his shoulders slouch with a small escaped breath, and in the briefly blank look he gives Lucifer, mouth open as he realizes the words ready to fly out don't match with what he's actually been asked. Giving himself a moment to redirect, he shoves the earbuds, now clammy from his hand, into his pocket.

"I don't know," he confesses. "She's not from Thorne — I've never seen her around the castle. But she could be from Solvunn. Her name's Aloy."

By the time he finishes, he's gnawing on his thumbnail. In retrospect, he feels stupid for never asking. It didn't seem all that important. Now, with everything that has happened, and tension winding more tightly every day, maybe he should take more care with who he trusts.

Aloy.

The flame-haired woman at the Lunar ceremony.

Right.

"I met her. She seems too earnest for her own good, so I don't imagine she purposely lost you."

So at least there's that. Lucifer may still send her a message regardless.

But whatever Wilhelm's got his head wrapped into, Lucifer will let him keep his secrets. It doesn't matter either way for what he says.

"Your title means nothing to anyone in charge, if they even know. And I don't think there's anymore playing under the radar--for either of us."

What happened in the woods had been an accident. He'd said as much, or at least he thinks he did. It's hard to remember what jumble of words had fallen out of his mouth then, when the words Lucifer had thrown at him stick so much more sharply in his brain. It had been an accident, but the implication that it might have been done by design, if only he'd latched onto the wrong person, shudders through him.

Overnight, everything has changed. Every step has to be watched, every word guarded. And that's why he's hardly left his room in three days — it was simpler to just be alone.

"I know."

Small and hard like a fist. Wilhelm knows his title is worth nothing here — that was one of the things he liked about this world. He could be nobody. The anonymity is reassuring, but now...maybe being nobody would no longer hold up as an adequate defense. He's holding his head in his hands, fingers knotted in his hair. Releasing a sigh, he peeks up at Lucifer.

"Why are you always looking out for me? You don't even seem to like people, so...why do you care?"

Were they really doing this?

Well, fine.

It isn't his fault if Wilhelm doesn't like the answer. There's a saying 'don't ask questions you don't want the answer to' for a reason.

"I told you when we first met." That the kid was malleable enough--he doesn't repeat that. "That maybe you were brought here for what you're capable of, not what you've done." He tilts his head. "Untapped potential." How had he looked at Jack and whatever was going on with him? Power, unrealized?

He should check in how that mess is going, but that would require being social, something they both hate.

"A work in progress, I suppose."

He could go further if pressed. Since he didn't... really answer the question.

But pressing further might be something Wilhelm (and Lucifer) both regret.

Maybe he should press further. Untapped potential. A work in progress. It comes down to what he can be for someone else, which is the core around which his whole life has always formed — in the way that, thanks to gravity, cosmic dust shapes into a planet whether it wanted to or not.

But in the wake of his catastrophic failure in Nocwich...Lucifer's sterile answer transforms into something weirdly reassuring. Wilhelm has no idea what he's capable of, aside from flapping the proverbial butterfly wings that brought a firestorm raining down on a city. At least someone sees something in him other than a disaster waiting to happen. He chews on the inside of his cheek.

"You still think that?" He can't help but add, a little petulantly, "I thought I was just a stupid child."

"You are," Lucifer says immediately, but the heat from the woods is gone. "But you're learning." A pause, and he's also thinking about that firestorm, but for different reasons. The kind of power Thorne unleashed is the kind he'd expect from a god and that settles poorly with him.

Thorne became more than just a gilded cage and there's a part of Lucifer that wants to give Free Cities whatever they need to lash back out, if only he could get over his disdain for the people that live there.

"We all are. And we've all done stupid things, not just you."

His frown tightens as Lucifer confirms it without so much as a second of thought. Now he's biting down hard on the inside of his cheek. Maybe he should find reassurance in what follows, but after everything that happened...it's a little but like sticking a band-aid on a gushing wound. Even if the words don't land quite right, Lucifer's tone tells him that he's not angry anymore.

"Wanda said the same thing."

But how many others can say that the stupid things they'd done led to the outbreak of a war? At least the guy who assassinated Archduke Ferdinand was actively trying to start shit. He had that going for him.

"Wanda?" There's a visible change to his demeanor. A good one. "You know Wanda?" And before he makes it sound like the kid's made a bad choice, he adds with a nod, "She's good people."

Which is saying something coming from him.

Even as deeply buried inside his own head as he is — suffocating as a tomb, in there — that comment manages to pull surprise out of him. Lucifer isn't much of a people person, in the way that gasoline isn't much of a fire extinguisher. It's good that he has...somebody.

"Yeah, she's great." Finally, his tone perks up a bit from its sullen wallowing.

Of course, his thoughts turn back to the lanterns they'd painted together, the names they'd written, and all the reasons he'd dedicated his to Lucifer. Quietly, he clears his throat.

"I never actually thanked you. For saving me."

She is, and Lucifer thinks that even more after seeing the scrawl of her words tear into Dean Winchester.

That might be the first time he's thought of her as a friend--and she knows nothing of his connection to Dean. She just saw Dean for what he was.

'I don't need your thanks' and 'I heard you, calling' are on Lucifer's mind.

He says neither.

"I didn't expect you to," he settles on. Because really. It isn't like Lucifer went about it in a nice way. Probably not even a good way. But the kid was still alive and that was what mattered in the end, right? Despite whatever anger-fueled method Lucifer went through.

He amends, "You don't have to." Thank him, that is.

The lantern and the blessing it was meant to bestow were the actual tokens of both his gratitude and contrition. He hadn't written Lucifer's name for the sake of earning his approval or anything like that. He'd done it because it just felt like the right thing to do. So although Wilhelm is curious to know if the blessing really worked as promised, that's a secret he'll hold onto.

"I want to anyway. So...thanks." His fingers tighten around his knees. "And sorry, for making you worry."

The second part is more tentative. He's not sure if worry is the right word for what lay behind Lucifer's anger, but it's the best approximation he can produce.

He makes a face of at the words, but as much as he wants to argue... all of it, really, it will just make things more difficult. The kid will get uppity or defiant or depressed or all of the above. He doesn't know. This is his first time dealing with a teenager.

"I'd say don't do it again but that's not a fair promise. But maybe quit this isolation thing you've been doing." The fact that the words are coming from Lucifer, who is awfully good about keeping to himself, should mean something. "It looks suspicious." And Lucifer doesn't yet even know Wilhelm is suspicious of anything. That will come later.

Too late — he's already depressed, through no effort on Lucifer's part.

The way Wilhelm's eyes dart away at the precise moment Lucifer pronounces suspicious is a little damning, but he's not letting go of his defenses just yet. He pinches up his face.

"I'm not isolating myself, I'm just..." He puffs out a sigh, buying himself time to think of an excuse. "I can't deal with people right now. Everyone's getting on my nerves."

Which isn't a complete fabrication. It's just that the nerves in question have less to do with his temper and more to do with the nervous breakdown connotation of the word.

"That's not going to change. People will always get on your nerves." That's maybe part of the reason Lucifer is fine being around and rooming with Istredd. Istredd and his books makes him a white noise to Lucifer. Barely noticeable, but someone there.

It hasn't been bad.

And it... weirdly makes him consider, blinking and tilting his head and Wilhelm, asking almost out of the blue, "Do you have a roommate?"

Another question Wilhelm wasn't expecting. At least he's stopped tensing up for all the unasked questions he's so sure are ready to tip from everyone's tongue, bombs that Lucifer apparently lacks in his arsenal. He shakes his head.

"No."

And though loneliness shadows him, having a room all to himself has decidedly proved a blessing. He doesn't have to explain his moods to anybody. He has unlimited time to wallow judgment-free. He wouldn't know how to share a space with somebody.

"Maybe you should consider it. It's not as terrible if you luck out." 'And find someone' he almost adds, but that just sounds strange. He went through extreme lengths to avoid rooming with someone for awhile, and then found that the best way to fight it was to stop trying so hard. "Force yourself to live with someone, might help you out."

He just stares at Lucifer for a moment, his expression measuring.

"Great," he scoffs, "I can't believe you're telling me to go out and make more friends."

There's something to be said for irony. If the world's biggest loner has noticed his new reclusive routine, then he has definitely fucked up.

"I know," he drags out. "Which means you should take my advice." At least consider it, kid. An Isolated Teen is the equivalent of a Broken Teen. There's so many wires in the human brain, getting them crossed and fried doesn't help Lucifer at all.

With a sigh, he moves away. Always the first one to leave this weird liminal space.

He gives the kid a stern look, hands on his hips. "If I don't see you around in the next twenty-four hours, I'm coming to find you again," he states. Demons quiver at Lucifer's very name, his voice, his existence.

Wilhelm might very well brush him off, but Lucifer isn't going to make it easy. He disappears.

I want to live, not be afraid and forsaken [open]

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