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tiralinka · 4 years

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How Lucio came up with his makeup routine. Version #1: Angsty

- Little Montag wanted desperately to be as strong and fearsome as his parents. But he was just a kid (and many told him he was cute), so he put up a bold front making those scary facial expressions like snarling and baring teeth that he believed would inspire fear and respect in everybody;

- His tribesmen still found him funny and adorable, and he hated it (they obviously didn't take him seriously);

- When Montag was a teenager, Morga had always commented on how his face was too pretty for a warrior. "But actual battle scars will rid you from this', she used to add with a dark smirk;

- Montag didn't personally see his appearance as a flaw (he was pretty cool, honestly). But growing up he learned that it was strength that was valued the most;

- When he failed during martial/swords training combat or whined about how he had to train/clean his weapons, his father used to mockingly call him Princess Monty and tell him that he was only good in the looks department;

- Local children heard it once and gave him the "precious little Monty" nickname that stuck to him since then (and no, it had nothing to do with his tantrums, they just envied him - he was a chieftess son, after all);

- In the first real battle, Montag was almost captured by an enemy warrior. 'You'll make a nice slave, pretty face' he drawled before Morga's sword cut through his chest;

- Montag was sick at the proximity of death and the implication of what the warrior said before he died. He hid behind his mother's back till the end of the battle;

- After the battle, Morga refused to help him heal his bruises. 'Serves you right', she spit with disdain. 'Should have left you to that boar so that you could learn how to not be a coward". Montag ran to his yelling cave and hysterically sobbed there alone in an emotional breakdown;

- After his crying fit he looked at his reflection in a nearby puddle to wipe his tears but his hand was stained in dirt. At a sudden inspiration, Montag painted two thick dirty strokes on his cheekbones. There, he wasn't pretty anymore;

- When he came back looking like an ugly dirty savage, Morga laughed. But when he asked to use her ink "to look like a Southerner" she grunted approvingly;

- First time in Vesuvia, now-Lucio constantly caught interested looks and soon realized that people were charmed by his appearance. Unlike people of the South, Vesuvians appreciated style, and beauty could open doors;

- At first Lucio was still reluctant to show off his appearance remembering of mockery he received at home and he continued to wear the same tribal paint;

- After he made a deal to become Count and was forced to hire demons as courtiers, he was so afraid of consequences /the price/ that he locked in his room in the palace freaking out all night and thinking when it all went wrong;

- Quite irrationally, he was scared that Morga would know about his wrongdoings, would find him somehow and come for him;

- Finally he looked at his red brimmed eyes and messed-up face paint in the mirror and thought, 'To hell with it", he might as well enjoy the chaos he was causing, consequences and the past be damned;

- In the morning instead of doing his usual sloppy marks meant to cover his face and make it uglier, he drew elegant lines that made his eyes and cheekbones stand out;

- He found that he looked obscenely handsome (almost whorry);

- It gave him strange satisfaction to imagine how Morga would cringe if he saw him like this;

- The man who went out of the room that morning was the Count how Vesuvia got to know him: lewd, overconfident, haughty and rowdy;

- He hates to stay without makeup because it makes him feel vulnerable and reminds him of a pathetic little boy that he was (he is a lot cooler now).

#the arcana #the arcana game #lucio the arcana #lucio the count #count lucio #montag morgasson #lucio morgasson #morga the arcana #the arcana headcanons #possible canon divergence #lucio and morga #the arcana fandom

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tiralinka · 4 years

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Lucio oneshot #2. Detachment

Maybe Morga was beautiful when she was young, at least that's what people said. Years of battles and hunting must have severed her appearance. All that 6-year-old Montag could see in the hard lines of her face was coldness and judgement, never a flicker of fondness. She was distant and intimidating, subtle strength and threat radiating from her and overwhelming everybody around. Montag felt smaller in her presence. If he was completely honest with himself, he slightly feared her. Not that this feeling was justified, she was his mother after all and mothers were supposed to love their sons. Besides, Montag Morgasson was never scared of anything. Father used to tell him that cowards didn't deserve to carry the name of the Scourge of the South. Montag was born a heir to the most fearsome clan in the world. Naturally, he wasn't a coward.

Naturally, when he accompanied his parents on the hunt, he wouldn't flinch at the sight of an enormous bear towering over them on its hind legs and about to lunge. And of course he wasn't frightened at a particularly nasty cry of an angered lynx killed by father. Nor did he lie awake at the night in an unsteady makeshift shelter in the woods peering into the darkness and imagining beasts creeping up on him, not daring to call to his parents.

Well, maybe all those things were in fact true and he did hide behind his parents back once or twice... or more. But nobody knew about it, right? And mama and papa, though very disappointed with him, weren't going to tell his secret to others. Mother's harsh reprimand for his “unworthy girly behavior” still rang in his years so clearly that he felt offended and incredibly upset whenever his mind traveled to that memory. So he tried as hard as he could to forget it. He could prove that he could be better next time. He could pretend that all that shameful things didn’t happen to him. He could imagine himself as fearsome and strong as his mother.

He could even believe in the picture his own imagination created.

#montag morgasson #lucio the arcana #lucio the count #count lucio #the arcana #the arcana game #morga the arcana #arcana the game #arcana fanfic #goatman

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tiralinka · 4 years

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Lucio oneshot #1. The beginning

Morga wasn’t prepared to feel heavy, sick and incapable for several months straight. A toughened warrior and a natural leader of her clan, she hated to have to step aside, even for a while, and let that slack husband of hers run their people wild. Unfortunately, being the chieftess entailed providing the tribe with a heir to pass on to a legacy of their numerous conquests and power over the southern lands.

Weakness was what Morga hated most of all. She was dreaming of the day when she would finally produce the baby and get rid of this burden.

When that day came and Morga, exhausted after a sleepless night of pain and struggle, held the tiny wrinkled newborn against her chest, a strange feeling akin to pride swelled in her heart. Her son, the future of her clan was resting in her hands, not bigger than two palms, softly snuffling. As much as Morga hated show of emotions, she couldn’t stop an affectionate smile from tugging at her lips as she started to gently rock the baby. She was going to raise him a real warrior to outdo even his mother, for all the lands to fear his name.

Midwifes who helped Morga through the childbirth opened the door to the hut. Excited Lutz bursted inside to see his son and stopped in astonishment at the sight of the soft expression on his wife’s usually stern face. Morga lifted the baby in her hands to show him to his father:

- Look at him, Lutz. This boy will make the Scourge of the South great.

The first rays of crimson sunrise that soaked through the windows painted the family scene in red shade.

#the arcana #the arcana game #morga the arcana #lucio the arcana #lucio the count #montag morgasson #the game arcana #the arcana oneshots #the arcana fandom #the arcana fic #count lucio #goatman

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