Post by Leo/ Clundy on Oct 15, 2023 0:19:42 GMT
CHOOSINGS
The Champion of Thoth- Jason Bates
“Hey kid, we’re closing.”
Jason looked up from the book he was engrossed in. Another book of fantasy and magic. One he had read already. The man that approached him was one he knew. The owner of the Library. He was kind enough to let Jason check books out much longer than most people.
Turning in his seat Jason gave the older man a big smile. Trying to make himself look as innocent as possible. “Let me stay for just a little longer? Just until I finish this chapter?” he asked. He knew he would get his way. He always got his way when it came to the librarian.
The old man looked at him and the book in his hand. The kid had just started on a new chapter. So he’d be here long after closing. Narrowing his eyes he looked back up at Jason and sighed. “Fine. But only one more chapter,” he agreed lifting one finger to emphasis his point and walked away to let him finish his reading.
Gleefully, Jason continued reading. Slower than his normal rate of reading just to kill time and fully engross himself in the story again. He sat there, leaned over his book as the book steadily rose higher into the night. And while most people would be weary and want to rest after a long day, Jason only felt more energized.
But he was too distracted to hear the footsteps approaching him from behind.
“Good book?” The man behind him asked. Jason jumped and spun around to see a man about 5’9” with deep brown skin and long dark brown coils of hair. Stubble covered his gentle smile and his eyes seemed to gleam with an unnatural golden glint. He looked about in his mid 20’s but something felt off about him. And it wasn’t just the fact that he was wearing an ugly jacket.
Hesitating, Jason looked him up and down before deciding to answer him. “Yeah. I mean I’ve read it already but its one of my favorites,” he answered a smile touching his lips as he talked about the book in his hands. Then he seemed to remember the man was a stranger. “What are you doing here? The library is closed.”
The stranger smiled knowingly and took the seat across from Jason. “The same as you. Reading my fill until he really kicks us out,” the man answered a quiet chuckle in his voice as he looked down to read the book in his hand. Minutes passed of them silently reading again before the man spoke again. “But what are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be running home?”
Jason paused at where he was in the book and held his breath. It wasn’t really any of this man’s business but… “I’d rather get home when my dad is asleep.” And he left it at that.
The stranger nodded in understanding and studied the boy in front of him. Looking off to the side a thought accured to him. “How many of this books have you read?”
Jason scoffed and leaned back in his seat. He looked around, seemingly counting the shelves and all the books before turning and looking at the man again. “All of them.”
The man across from him looked impressed and grabbed a random book from a nearby table. “So if I asked you to quote them blind?,” he asked and opened the book to a random page. Jason furrowed his brow at the weird way he said it. But, he never got a chance to Finding a line he liked the stranger read it aloud. “ “Look—” he murmured, holding out his arm to stop Malfoy. Something bright white was gleaming on the ground. They inched closer.“
“It was the unicorn all right, and it was dead. Harry had never seen anything so beautiful and sad. Its long, slender legs were stuck out at odd angles where it had fallen and its mane was spread pearly-white on the dark leaves.” Jason continued. It was from Harry Potter there was no mistaking that scene.
Picking up another book and doing the same the man raised his eyebrows at the boy. “Of the king's ship The mariners say how thou hast disposed And all the rest o' the fleet.”
“Safely in harbour Is the king's ship; in the deep nook, where once Thou call'dst me up at midnight to fetch dew. Shakespere The Tempest.”
“Impressive. Last one. There is no greater agony…” he trailed off looking at the kid expectantly.
“Bearing an untold story inside you.” Jason finished once again. But, those words had his chest feeling heavy for some reason. He didn’t expect the words coming from his mouth to impact him that harshly.
The stranger nodded and smiled at the boy. “Maya Angelou.” Setting the book down to the side, the stranger reached out his hand for the kid to shake. “What’s your name?’
“Jason Bates.” He answered slowly extending his hand and taking the other man’s. He wasn’t sure why he had just been quizzed on his knowledge of the books. It seemed like an odd thing to be quizzed on after just meeting each other. And after taking the man’s hand another jolt of energy ran through his body and he was unable to let go.
“Jason Bates, I chose you as my Champion. You will be granted a fraction of my divine power and I in return will guide and protect you until I m no longer needed. So says Thoth, the god of magic, the moon, writing, and wisdom.” The man’s voice echoed through the room as if they were in a cave. Deep and powerful with such weight to the words. As if it were… magic.
Jason looked up at the man and, as if transparently silhouetted behind him, what looked like a bird moved just as he did. What he said couldn’t possibly be true. Jason’s heart was racing and he looked frightened.
Pulling on Jason’s hand gently, the man that called himself Thoth gave him a gentle and friendly smile. “I’ll speak with you soon.” And with that, Thoth let go of the boy’s hand sending him tipping backwards in his chair. Falling. Falling longer than he should have.
Until, he landed on his back on cold unfamiliar wood.
The Champion of Ares- River Gellis
The strike to his jaw made his teeth rattle and his vision blur. Stumbling backward, River brought his arms up to protect his face and wipe at the blood crawling down from his lip. It stung when he touched it and couldn’t help when he sucked in a sharp breath.
How long had he been down here? How long had he been fighting this one guy with the crowd screaming for more? The harsh floresants above him the only light source in this dark room but didn’t provide enough to illuminate his challenger very well. So it’s understandable that he crumbled to the ground when another punch landed on his stomach.
His face smacked too hard against the cold cement and River curled into himself. His head was spinning, his body hurt, and he just wanted everything be quiet. The crowd around them cheered louder as his opponent taunted River to get up. To take another beating.
If he didn’t need the money he would probably get back up. Wipe the smug smile from the other man’s face and take the prize money. But that was assuming he could beat this guy. Looking up at the crowd, River distantly heard the referee counting, starting from ten.
Just stay down, River. It’ll be over in a second.
A man caught his eye in the crowd. He was tall, dressed in all black and a leather jacket, stubble covered his jaw, and his hair was greased back. The most annoying thing about him his that he was wearing sunglasses inside. The man looked at him expectantly and crossed his arms over his chest. An eyebrow raised over his dark aviator sunglasses and he gestured with his head for him to get up.
Who did this guy think he was? He acted as if he knew what River was going to do. Encouraged it even. Did he know how much money he would lose if he actually won?
Before he could stop himself, River was getting back on his feet by the time the referee was on the count of 5. He groaned in pain as he straightened himself back up and raised his fists again. Blood ran down his chin as he smiled at the annoyed man in front of him.
“You want a fight? I’ll give you a fight.”
————
“Think about that the next time you decide to make a deal with us,” the gruff older an growled before calling off his goons and striding out of the room. They dropped River and he crumbled to the floor, gasping for air and clutching at his stomach.
He was going to hurt in the morning.
Shifting so that his back was against the cool stone wall, River tried to take a deep breath but found that made everything hurt worse. Grunting in pain, River leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. At least he won the prize money.
Slow clapping caught the young man’s attention but he didn’t open his eyes. He didn’t move from his spot to address the newcomer, he simple sat there and waited for the stranger to speak.
“My you are stubborn huh?” The man asked. Curiosity got the better of River and he opened his eyes to see who it was. Sunglasses. Immediately, River became defensive and scowled at him.
“Who are you?” He asked not attempting to be polite in anyway.
“People call me Ares,” The man introduced himself and squatted in front of the red head. There was a moment of silence as they stared at each other. River angrily and this so called Ares expectantly.
River narrowed his eyes at him and pulled his limbs in closer to his body. “You say that as if I should know who you are.”
Ares frowned showing his disappointment but scoffed and chose to ignore it. “River right? What are you doing in an underground fight ring? Don’t you have something better to do?”
River struggled to his feet and moved around the man. He opened a locker that was nearby an grabbed what little stuff her owned. “Don’t you?” River retorted not looking at him. He found spare gauze in his bag an started wrapping it around his bruised and bloody hands. “Besides what do you care?”
Ares stood and crossed his arms over his chest leaning back against the wall. He didn’t answer his questions. He had his answer.
Instead he smiled and raised his eyebrows. “You’re a good choice.”
River hardly looked up when he said that. But he did react when Ares suddenly came lunging at him. Dropping his stuff and balling up his fist, River swung a persicv punch towards the other man’s face. Only for his fist to be caught in the stranger’s hand.
Ares smiled and tilted his head upward as if he had the upper hand. Which of course he did. “I, Ares, God of war and violence chose you River Gellis as my Champion. I grant this stubborn kid a fraction of my power as well as my guidance and protection. And so it shall be.”
River tried to pull his arm free and glared up at the man as he spoke. “What are you on about?” He growled. His body felt hot. Too much energy seemed to flow up through his arm as he was locked in what he thought was a fight. “Let me go!”
Ares grabbed the front of River’s shirt and brought him close to his face. Tilting his head down, the self proclaimed god looked at the boy over his sunglasses. And River felt his stomach drop. There starring right into his own eyes were two raging fires in his pupils. Wild and relentless and boring into his soul.
“Have a nice fall, River,” he muttered. And then he pushed him back and let go of him. Sending the poor fighter into a spiral as he fell. Spiraling out of control. And then landing face first on wooded floor.
Champion of Set- Ripley Gates
He forgot how long he’d been in the stables. It could have been 30 minutes or maybe two hours. It could have even been eight hours and the sun was beginning to rise. Regardless, time always seemed to distort while he was in here. Surroundings disappeared as he fell into the rhythmic pattern of his movements. The steady ‘thud, thud, thud’ into the wooden pillar coming from the dark corner of his family's stables. A corner he’d claimed as his own since he was a young child.
His focus was simply on his breath. In and out. Trying to calm down and suppress what had just happened. The only feeling he allowed was the sharp sting of his fists connecting with the worn wood beginning to splinter and the dull throb of his knuckles as they continued to split skin and tissue, getting ever so dangerous to cracking the bones again.
But, his mind wouldn’t rest until he stopped imagining that man’s face leering over him. Taunting him to do something. Anything against him. Wanting him to give a reason to be sent away.
“I believe it’s dead.”
Ripley spun on his heel and backed up into the wooden pillar he had just been punching to death, hoping to hide the evidence of what had happened to it. His breath caught in his throat as he caught the eyes of a stranger gently petting the nose of a white mare nearby. Sandy, his sister’s horse.
Normally the mare nipped at everyone that got too close to her including Ripley. But there she was silent and obedient to this intruder, ears tucked back as if she were annoyed or nervous.
The man was older with white hair neatly trimmed and framing his face that gave him an air of importance. He wore a black and maroon three-piece suit accompanied by a long black overcoat, black gloves, and a cane with a weird animal head that kinda resembled a bald armadillo as the handle.
The man patted the neck of the horse and cooed gently to her before turning his attention to the boy and giving him a careful and unkind smile as he began approaching slowly.
Ripley watched him carefully, taking note of how he walked just fine without the cane. He encroached on the young man’s space as Ripley tried to push himself further and further into the wooden pillar, seemingly trying to either climb it or melt into it to escape this situation. “Who the f*ck are you?” he asked sharply as his hands searched for any piece of tack nearby he could use as a weapon.
He was well aware his father was a powerful man and had enemies everywhere. Enemies that wouldn’t hesitate to take Ripley, his sister, or his mother as leverage. He had been told since he was born that he needed to be careful about who he trusted and not to become a liability. It had been so far so good, but was today the day he was finally taken?
“Just passing by” The old man answered nonchalantly. He took his last few steps before stopping and leering over the boy, hands folded behind his back. The stranger seemed to notice that Ripley was doing his best to save face and try and look brave. However, his entire body language read as completely fearful and suppressing the quivering of his heart racing faster and faster. Something the old man seemed to take pleasure in as he grinned.
Ripley scowled and leaned forward, seemingly trying again to show he wasn’t scared. “I said ‘who are you’ not ‘what are you doing’. What you don’t understand English, old man?” the boy snapped.
“Old,” The stranger mused with a chuckle. He leaned back and took a couple of steps away from the boy, going to look out the nearby window and running a gloved hand over his beard. Flecks of what looked like maybe sand fell from it. “Yes, I suppose I am.”
Moments of silence passed before Ripley spoke again, moving towards the double doors as he did. “You need to go before I call security,” He cautioned as he backed up, never taking his eyes off of the intruder. “My father doesn’t take kindly to random people on his proper-“
“In this storm?” The man asked pausing in his grooming to incline his head in Ripley’s direction. He huffed out a laugh at the thought which oddly offended the young man. “They’ll never make it to you.”
Ripley had made it to the doors now. One hand was on the latch, the other on the door itself ready to push it open and run. “Oh so you’re dumb too?” he asked angrily with a mix of smugness.
Lifting the latch and pushing the door open, Ripley shifted his position so that he could run back to the house. Surely, he could easily outrun this stranger granted there were no henchmen or something nearby. But, as the door swung open, Ripley was blasted with an angry vortex of sand. Whirling around his body and striking his skin painfully.
The horses in the stable reared and whinnied in a panic. Skittish to the sound of violent wind and even harsher gusts of sand. Some of them tried to move as far away from the door as possible while others kicked at their pens attempting to run.
Ripley forced the door back closed, using one arm to shield his face before deciding he needed the help of both hands to accomplish the task. Straining against the wind and grains of sand, the young man managed to pull the door closed with a loud WHOMP causing him to fall backward onto the flat of his back. Scrambling he got back up and secured the latch so the door didn’t suddenly fling open again.
He leaned against the door panting, his hands trembling in a mixture of tiredness and fear. He couldn’t believe he had almost run right out into the storm like that. But, there hadn’t been a predicted storm for tonight. That’s why he was in here.
The horses were still screaming and kicking at their doors, still panicked and wanting to run to safety even though this was the safest they were going to get. The noise was too much for Ripley. Unnecessary sounds from stupid animals that didn’t know the danger had passed. Whirling around at the beasts he screamed “Shut up!” causing them to fall into an agitated silence.
“Fascinating how fast they always seem to catch up to me,” The stranger mused now facing Ripley, seemingly unbothered with the events that just transpired. Not a fleck of sand was on the man whereas Ripley was covered in the substance head to toe. Some managed to imbed themselves in the wounds of his knuckles.
Ripley scowled and began striding towards the old man. No longer fearful for his life. “You! Get out!”
The man pressed a hand to his chest and guffawed at the outburst. “How unkind of you. Sending a poor old man out into a storm such as that.” He raised his cane and pressed the end of it into the boy’s chest to keep him from coming any closer. “You truly are cruel.”
Ripley slapped the cane away with the palm of his hand and attempted to take a step forward, except the cane came back in a circle and planted itself right back where it had been.
“Foolish little boy so desperate to get back to the father that hates him. And yet here I am offering a solution to the problem.”
All the fight left Ripley’s body. The tension in his shoulders and arms relaxed and his expression fell to that of confusion before hardening and shaking his head. “No, he doesn’t-“
“Do not be stupid I beg of you. You think going into that corner and beating yourself bloody so you don’t feel anything is the result of good parenting? Don’t call me the imbecile until you’ve looked at yourself in the mirror.” The old man cautioned as he dropped his cane back to his side. He was quiet as he watched the boy look between his eyes, trying to find the lie or the joke. Something. Anything!
Ripley dropped his gaze to his feet and huffed out a frustrated breath. “Ok and so what? What are you going to do?” He asked flexing his hands and gritting his teeth against the pain.
“I’m not going to do anything,” The man whispered. He reached into the pocket of his coat, which caused Ripley to stiffen, and produced something that appeared in Ripley’s line of sight. A handle connected to a silver blade. “You are.”
The young heir’s breath caught in his throat and he stared wide-eyed at the blade. Perfectly clean and untouched. No knicks in the steel to indicate that it had been used previously. Beautiful and deadly.
“Wouldn’t it be better to practice on a live target?” The man asked in a hushed tone, a wicked grin spreading across his face. He pushed the dagger into the boy’s hands and placed a hand on his shoulder guiding him to the door he had previously locked. Just like a father would.
As they reached the door, Ripley paused in opening it and glanced at the stranger beside him. “You still haven’t told me who you are.”
The man simply smiled and patted Ripley on the shoulder. “The storm won’t harm you.”