FIN :: Three :: Lux Dewitt

namedlux robin dewitt
agedeighteen
locateddistrict three
presentedmale
orientatedheterosexual
appearance

It was soup for dinner again.

They had been having soup a lot recently, and Lux was the only sibling not getting sick of it. Even little Alfie, who was only two, refused to eat anymore. But not Lux. Because with soup came the silver spoons, and, at six years old, spoons were more fascinating than anything he could ever learn at school. "Stop it, Lucky," Luce moaned at him as he gooned at his reflection and let his meal go cold, but he couldn't hear her; he was too hypnotised by his warped face to notice. The outside of the spoon made his huge eyes look even huger, like two blue plates topped by thick, dipped eyebrows and a ruddy expanse of freckled forehead. By moving this piece of cutlery from side to side, Lux could enlarge first one side of his strong, wide jaw and then the other, low cheekbones inflating and deflating in the reflection in turn.

Best of all, however, was a spoon's ability to correct mistakes. Lux's ugly, jutting lower jaw, and his slightly crooked nose were hardly visible, even though they were still so prominent in real life. Lux lifted one hand to his narrow chin and stroked it in a wise-looking way. If his facial hair turned out anything like the course, curly hair on his scalp, sandy blonde like the rest of his family but with dark roots that betray its future colour, he would make sure that he shaved every day so he'd never have a beard. The boy was afraid of the day that he was going to have to start shaving, even if it was a whole ten years or so in the future, because that would mark the day when he had grown up for good. When the time was right, his father would teach him how to do it properly, no doubt, so that he wouldn't be left with marks on his face. That's what Lux was afraid of the most, making mistakes he could never change. He kept himself as clean as possible, scrubbing behind his ears like his mama told him to and relentlessly washing the dirt out from the fingernails of his large hands. The adult teeth that had grown by six sat between his small, uneven lips were white, albeit a little gappy, and he always made sure he ate healthily. If Lux's father told him he could reach six foot two, he was determined to reach six foot two. Regis was always right. That's the way it was. And, when Lux grew up, he knew that it wouldn't be enough to just look like him. To be a king, he had to act like him as well.

personality

history

He was only ten years old when his world began to show signs of crumbling. His perfect family, a band of winners, of high-flyers and overachievers suddenly started to fall apart, due to the death of Lux's perfect, loving mother.

His whole life, he had neglected her words of concern and worry, putting it aside as just her nature. He satisfied her by letting her pick oose from his clothes before he went to school and paying attention to her as she expressed how happy she was that he'd championed his school mates in one competition or another, but, to him, she was always eclipsed by the glory of Lux's father; his idol. Whilst Mrs Dewitt could calm a room with a meal or a few soft words, Regis could stop everyone's motion simply by entering, and Lucky loved that. He craved the attention that everyone gave his father, and wouldn't accept that it was something that wouldn't just come naturally, like everything else in his life had. He followed Regis around the house between the ages of eight and ten, scrutinising his every action, hanging on to his every word, preparing himself so far in advance for the future he knew he would lead, one day. Only losing his mother could shatter that determination.

A death in the household shook Lucky in a way no one could have expected. Suddenly, the world seemed dangerous, inevitable - dying was a terrifying concept even through the television screen, watching tributes kill and be killed, but so close by made Lux not sad, but afraid. On the day of the funeral, he refused to leave his bedroom, convinced that he would have to die as well. He didn't want to leave the house, to leave his room. The finite quality of life was the only thing that he wasn't sure he knew how to overcome. For the weeks after, this fear continued, and while the rest of the Dewitts mourned conventionally, Lucky tried to live up to his nickname, his superstition increasing. Death was intangible, unbeatable if physical defenses were used. His mind, and his new beliefs, were the best protection he had.

What was once a need to always be presentable became a compulsive ritual. Lux would spend an hour every day in the bath, cleansing himself and tempting fate by holding his head under the water. Just like he did with the kids at school, he had to show the demon that had entered his home and stolen his mother away that he was the boss of it. Luce, the eldest and the most influential of all his five younger siblings, tried to tell him rightly that it wasn't the way forwards, that now was the time to prove that he was a king who could move in leaps and bounds, not just in small actions, square by square. "I'm trying to show you in a way you can understand, Lux. This is how you'll beat death, or whatever," She was the only person he had told about his theory, because he trusted her and his father alone out of his family. And Nox? He couldn't be relied upon - as he had grown older he had grown more bitter, and Lucky was afraid to tell him anything anymore. "You should be proving to dad that you're strong enough to take control in the face of disaster; not that you're going to be like this forever." But Lux couldn't listen to her words. Dad was mourning, too, so wasn't it right to do the same and focus on Death, as well? Lucky thought so for a long time, until he realised that, try as he might, Death was as inescapable as growing up had been when he was only six.

Because years later, it came for his beloved father as well.

Whilst Lux's mother's death had been peaceful, quite and respectable, Regis' caused such a riot within the family and the Company that it was a miracle that no Peacekeepers were involved in the following weeks. His body was found with its throat slit, stained with his lifeblood and limp were it was abandoned. Lucky was still under eighteen, so was naturally too young to see for himself, but his uncle Abel, out of respect and pity, gave him a full description. Losing one parent seemed to be misfortune, but losing two was almost planned. Luce and the others had their suspicions, and Lux had his as well, but whilst the other Dewitt children acted on their impulses - evident from the death of Nox Sullivan's father, the main suspect in the first murder, so quickly after Regis' own - Lux kept himself very much to himself. He had to be the boss now, keep his family under control, be the king he had prepared to be his whole childhood and adolescence. So he attended the funeral with no hint of the panic he felt at his mother's, organised the transfer of guardianship to his uncle like a man, and still managed to hide the fear that bubbled underneath his surface. Like the rest of the family, he blamed the jealousy of the Sullivans totally for orphaning him, but he was not at all keen to act on that conviction. All he knew were small steps, so small steps he would take.

However, one thing was for certain: this crime would not go unpunished, and King Dewitt would take his rightful seat, above the traitors he always knew he was superior to. Despite his fear, and his compulsive paranoia, Lux trusted in his family to protect him, and with them he knew that he could claim his crown.

other
face claimdavid du preez
palettekiss the bride
songhouse of wolves
plotchess plot
codewordodair