[Third Person Pov]
Zoe watched Lucian stand rigid beneath the crushing weight of the heavens, the invisible force pressing down across his shoulders and back like a living mountain. His frame was locked in place, muscles coiled and trembling under the strain, yet he made no sound of complaint. The sight made something tight and uneasy twist in her chest.
"Are you uncomfortable?" she asked.
Lucian turned his head just enough to look at her. His expression remained flat, unreadable. He said nothing. The silence stretched, thin and awkward, until Zoe felt heat crawl up her neck. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, suddenly hyper-aware of how useless she must look sitting there while he endured that burden alone.
"Sorry. Stupid question," she muttered, glancing away. "I just feel guilty watching you do this while I'm sitting here doing nothing."
Lucian's eyes narrowed slightly, a weary, almost exasperated look settling over his features. "You're acting very uncharacteristic. Please stop. You're weirding me out."
The words landed like a slap. Zoe's head snapped back toward him, irritation flaring hot and sharp. "Huh?! What's uncharacteristic about me being concerned? I'm not so bad that I wouldn't be affected by… this!" She gestured emphatically at the invisible weight bearing down on him, glaring as if daring him to contradict her.
Then he let out a theatrical gasp, eyes widening in mock horror. "Zoe Nightshade, the infamous man-hater, concerned for a man? The scandal! What would Lady Artemis say about this?"
Zoe's jaw clenched so hard her teeth ground together. "I thought we agreed not to antagonize each other," she said through gritted teeth.
"Heh. We did," Lucian replied, clearly pleased by her reaction. "But you're just a very fun person to tease."
Zoe looked seconds away from punching him. She huffed, crossed her arms tightly over her chest, and turned her face away. "You barely count as a man anyway. You're just… pitiful."
"Yes, yes," Lucian said, amusement still coloring his voice. He adjusted his stance beneath the crushing pressure, rolling one shoulder as if testing the limits of the weight. When he spoke again, the teasing edge had softened into something quieter, more reassuring. "Don't worry. I'm not uncomfortable. It's just heavy. I don't mind it too much."
Zoe stood there hugging herself, staring at the faint, almost gentle smile on his face. It did nothing to ease the restless guilt twisting under her ribs. Her gaze drifted over the dried blood that still clung to his skin in dark, crusted patches—across his chest, along the lines of his collarbones, streaked over the tense muscles of his arms and shoulders. The longer she looked, the more wrong it felt to simply stand there and watch.
She sighed, long and low, then turned and walked away without another word.
Lucian watched her go, brow furrowed in mild confusion. He didn't call after her. Instead he closed his eyes and turned his focus inward, letting the crushing pressure settle over him like a familiar, if unwelcome, companion. In a strange way it became a kind of meditation—feeling the weight, acknowledging it, then deliberately shifting his attention elsewhere so it would not consume him entirely.
The soft sound of water sloshing pulled him back. When he opened his eyes, Zoe was walking toward him again, a wooden bucket gripped in both hands and a folded towel draped over one shoulder. The water inside the bucket rocked with every step, catching the light in dull silver flashes.
"First off," Lucian said, staring at her with open bewilderment, "what are you doing? Second—where did you even get that?"
Zoe set the bucket down in front of him with a quiet thud and rolled up her sleeves. "I'm going to wash you now."
"The fuck you are." Lucian recoiled as much as the weight on his back would allow, looking at her as though she had lost her mind.
"This place used to be my home, remember?" she said calmly, crouching down and dipping the towel into the water. "Nothing's really changed. I know where everything is." She wrung the cloth out with practiced hands, then looked up at him. Her expression was almost pleading. "Please. Just let me do this for you. It doesn't feel right for me to sit around doing nothing while you're carrying all of that."
She didn't wait for permission. The damp towel pressed against his chest, rough and thorough as she began scrubbing away the dried blood.
"Ow—lady, what do you think I am?" Lucian grimaced, flinching. "A horse? One of your wolves? I have delicate skin. Be gentle!"
"Sorry," Zoe said quickly, her movements softening at once. Clean streaks of diluted red began to bloom across the hard planes of his chest as she worked more carefully. "Is this better?"
"Whatever," Lucian grumbled, turning his face away. A faint flush had begun to color the tips of his ears.
Zoe noticed. A small, unexpected chuckle escaped her as she continued, rinsing the towel, wringing it out, and returning to the work. She moved slowly over his shoulders, down the tensed length of his arms, then around to the rigid muscles of his back—all of them locked tight beneath the unrelenting pressure of the heavens.
The intimacy of the act settled over her gradually, like a quiet awareness she hadn't intended. Cleaning the blood from the side of his neck forced them closer still. For a moment neither of them spoke. Their eyes met in the heavy silence.
Then Lucian snapped his head forward with a sudden mock-bite, complete with a sharp, playful bark.
Zoe yelped, stumbling backward so hard she nearly overturned the bucket of now-crimson water. "Lucian!!"
"Hehehe—ow!"
She had already twisted the wet towel into a tight rope and snapped it across his chest with a sharp *phwap*.
"What is wrong with you?" Lucian glared at her, indignant. "Can't you see I'm holding something?!"
"What's wrong with *me*?!" Zoe shot back, face flushed with equal parts embarrassment and fury. "The better question is what's wrong with *you*! I'm trying to do you a favor!"
They fell into rapid, overlapping bickering, both of them clearly flustered, voices rising and falling in exasperated waves.
A short distance away, Luke stood facing a tree, one hand braced against the rough bark. He closed his eyes and began softly banging his forehead against the trunk in steady, resigned thuds while the sound of their argument continued unabated behind him.
'I'm being punished as well, aren't I? Having to be a witness to all this… sigh… Dammit, I miss calypso'
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