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The Lunar New Year was an event that always seemed to fascinate Stolas, so he was pleasantly surprised when he’d mentioned it offhand and Blitzø seemed to hop on the idea. Of course, mentioning the fact it was the year of the horse really got the other man on board instantly.
In celebrating the holiday, this came with the important custom of cleaning one’s home to ward off bad luck. However superstitious it may have been, both men could agree that a little bit of good luck coming their way this year would be much appreciated. Especially with how big of a disaster the one prior had been.
Things had improved between the two men in the months following the trial. Things were more than ok between them, as a matter of fact. But still, a little bit of a positive push would be much appreciated. After all, Stolas was still not without his own hardships at present. Like with his daughter…
He didn’t like to dwell on it for too long. It only made him more depressed when it settled in that his daughter hated him. Not a day went by that Stolas hadn’t missed her, or thought of her, wondering how things were back at the palace without him there.
Were Andrealphus and Stella treating her right? Was Via keeping on top of her studies? Was she happier without me in her life?
Stolas had to shake his head and focus. Whatever was happening now, he had no right to be upset he was cut out. The current situation was all his fault, after all. He made her feel as though he didn’t love her. That was something he could never go back and change, no matter what hardships he was facing personally, he should have never shirked his responsibilities both to the family as a whole, but more importantly to her as a father.
What’s done is done.
At present Stolas found himself dusting the furniture, more so the spaces Blitzø was too short to reach easily, “When was the last time things have been dusted like this?” He asked as he swiped his pointer finger through a relatively thick layer of dust on top of a bookshelf and looked at what collected on his finger curiously.
“Ahhh,” Blitzø could be heard from the kitchen where he was scrubbing down the counters, “If I say ‘I don’t know’ is that answer enough?” There wasn’t a lick of shame in his voice, and Stolas couldn’t quite blame him. Now seeing first hand just how busy the Imp was in his day to day life, working his tail off at work and returning home exhausted, Stolas understood. Especially now that he himself was involved in that routine.
The taller man chuckled before responding, “That gives me a good idea, yes.” He replied as he cleaned his finger and wiped away the layer of dust with the rag. Stolas couldn’t exactly judge Blitzø on his cleaning habits. After all, he's also never been one to clean before his banishment.
As Stolas went about dusting, something in particular caught his eye. A relatively small box sat tucked away on the far back of a shelf, hidden just out of sight. He quickly peaked over his shoulder to make sure Blitzø was still well occupied with his cleaning before tentatively picking the box up and wiping the thick layer of dust off the top before peering in.
It felt wrong of him to do so, invading Blitzø’s privacy like this since it was obviously hidden for a reason, but his curiosity was peaked and it was only a small look, so was there any real harm done?
Inside was a collection of old photographs. Some of a younger Blitzø surrounded by friends at the circus; not a single white mark across his blemish-less red skin. Some were of him and his twin sister, and others of him, a rather tall woman, and a man Stolas could recognize as Blitzø’s father, Cash. He thumbed through them, noting that a few were singed around the edges, some were stained with water, but others were treated with the utmost care, like an irreplaceable treasure.
“Y'know, my twin sister... She hates me too. For something that I did. And I miss her, every day.”
He remembered what Blitzø told him on Sinsmas as his eyes stopped on a photograph of the Imp dressed in a costume standing with his sister, who was sitting in a hoop, advertising their trapeze act. The similarity was uncanny, even as fraternal twins, if Stolas ever saw Blitzø in drag, he was certain he could pass off for her no problem, and vice versa.
“What are you doing?” Blitzø asked from next to him, almost startling Stolas into dropping the box.
“Oh!” He tucked the photograph back and closed the box quickly, “You startled me.” He made a show of continuing to wipe the dust from the top of the box to play it cool, “I was simply dusting the items on the shelf.”
The Imp arched a brow at him and reached up for the box, “That’s not suspicious at all.” He wasn’t upset, not really. More bemused if anything, “Let me see.”
Stolas passed him the box nervously, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry, I just…”
“It’s fine Stolas.” He responded softly as he opened the box, “Honestly I’ve been wondering where I put this thing.” He pulled out some of the pictures and looked over them, his eyes looking over the photo of him and his sister with remorse , “These take me back…” there was a sadness to his voice as he went and sat on the couch to flip through the stack.
Stolas set the dusting rag on the shelf and nervously approached, “I truly didn’t mean to pry.”
Blitzø looked up at him in confusion, “I mean it, it’s fine.” he repeated before patting the cushion beside him in invitation, “It’s just a box of photos from my circus days. Not like they’re top secret or anything.” Despite the reassurance, Stolas still got the feeling that he’d stumbled across something that should be treated delicately.
He took a seat next to Blitzø and rested an arm on the back of the couch behind the other man, peering over his shoulder curiously as he picked through the pile of pictures with a careful hesitation. Some of him with an older woman were flipped through quickly, as though they hurt the other man to look at, while others of him, his sister, and Fizzarolli were looked at more fondly.
“Barb and I used to have this act–the one thing I could manage without screwing up.” Blitzø’s voice was quiet, like the information was for Stolas’ ears only, “I was never really funny, not like Fizz, but I could do tricks and shit easily enough. Anything to keep my mouth shut.”
Stolas leaned against his side and rested his head against the curve of one of Blitzø’s horns, “I always loved your jokes.” he mused, remembering the one about the horse with laminitis with a fond recolection, "Like worm horse."
The other man scoffed, “You would be the only one.” he responded, then thought better of it and looked up at Stolas, "Wait you remember that shit?" his tail flicked curiously against the cushion of the couch beside him.
"Of course." Stolas smiled down at him, "It was the first thing to make me laugh that day. How could I possibly forget?"
Blitzø smiled softly back before he nestled closer to Stolas and settled comfortably at his side. A very soft purr began to rumble from the shorter man's chest, a simple act of comfort that warmed Stolas' heart and had him cooing in return. It was silly just how fond he was of the man beside him, and it was moments like this one that made that fondness grow.
The other man was quiet for a moment as he picked through the photos, but he always seemed to return back to one of him and his sister when they were very young, curled up with that woman who kept appearing in the bunch.
Blitzø hesitated for a while, trying to find his words, but he eventually got out a quiet, “Have I ever told you about my mom?”
The question was unexpected, “No.” Stolas answered, “But I would love to hear about her if you’d want to.” Anything he could possibly learn about him, Stolas would take every little bit he could get.
He passed the picture to Stolas and picked through the box again, “That’s her.” he explained, “She was…” Blitzø hesitated, “She used to take care of the horses, showed me how to care for the other animals, but especially the horses.” his smile was soft, "Before the circus, she grew up on a farm in Wrath. I don't know how she met my dad, but she left Wrath after a natural disaster destroyed the town she grew up in. Fire tornados are nasty business." he pulled out another photo of her and his sister, a bit older here, "Greed sucked to grow up in, but at least we never had to worry about any of that shit."
"You grew up in Greed?" Stolas asked, his eyes flickering between the photograph in his hand, and the one Blitzø was currently looking at. Stolas took in every last detail of her. She seemed like a kind, patient woman. Nothing compared to the stories Stolas had heard of about Cash. Neither Stolas nor Blitzø knew what became of that man, but he did know one thing. If he’d ever come across him, well, Stolas would be rather creative with the way he would tear into him.
Perhaps a part of that anger came from seeing the similarities between Cash Buckzo and his own father, but every time Stolas thought of what Cash had done, selling his son for $5 and a condom–regardless of whether or not that day was the happiest of Stolas’ childhood, it was absolutely deplorable.
"Yeah. It was the place with the cheapest real-estate and easy access to circus shit with how Mammon is. My dad capitalized on that and created Hell's first all Imp circus." Blitzø began to flip through more of the photos, his eyes lingering on one of his father for a little longer before he chose to tuck it into the very back of the stack, "He always was a cheap bastard." he remarked bitterly.
Blitzø pulled out another picture of his mother and smiled, “Her name was Tilla.” he pressed on, “I think you would have liked her." he thought for a moment before adding in, "She would have loved you if she got the chance to meet you.”
That made something in Stolas' chest tighten, "Oh..." It was a sweet enough sentiment, but part of it felt bittersweet for him, "I would have loved to meet her." His voice was slightly choked up, "I never got to know my own, but I'm certain Queen Octavia would have loved you, too."
It didn't need to go said, the fact his mother was dead as well. It was a longing both men could relate to, to simply see them again. It was absent of that irritating sympathy one often gave to someone who lost a loved one. No fumbling apologies, just understanding.
They spent the majority of the day going through the photos, and Stolas listened with baited breath as Blitzø told him story after story of the things he'd gotten up to in childhood. Funny stories of them smuggling booze from his father, and others more sad, like the first injuries sustained, or mourning the loss of a beloved circus animal, yet all of them were little treasures that Stolas felt honored to receive from the other man. This went well into the night, and though they both didn't complete their cleaning of the apartment, it was fine, because reminiscing like this was like a cleaning of the soul, and that was no less rewarding.