Just for fun
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Did you know a thing or two about the Great Britain Olympic football team? Because it's relevant
William kept an eye on the particular two guys, Sam and Peter, as they approached.
He hasn't seen such kinds for years. such things weren't rare, Daedalus and Sisyphus were examples, and the latter are still at large. While at least they knew what they're involved in unlike those who had no any idea how to deal with. he had no idea why choosing to interrupt in at this point in time, which he had learned in childhood was meaningless.
flock of Keres hovered along with their victim slipping through the net, they won't shot for now. "Death…" he mumbled.
The duo stopped, whirling on him, blinking in confusion. For that moment, his father seemed to appear behind them. Hiding the bewilderment and consternation after the image vanished, he went on "Doesn't like to be cheated." Because that wasn't impossible, William added in mind. Usually he would ignore the survivors, absorbed in his own tasks.
his eyes lingered between the Keres behind them. These chthonic creatures slided away from the left in his gaze.
They dare not get in his face, he will go on his own way like others anyhow. when that day they reunite inevitably, he can't get away through transferring to elsewhere to witness the death of others in exchange again as he did in youth to survive outside alone. He hadn't used it for a long time anyway. That won't work at every turn.
"Excuse me?" Sam questioned in confusion.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Peter disregarded slightly, having decided to ignore him already.
that means you shouldn't take him to the limits of his observation and patience, "You'll all just be careful now." Turning away, he briefed. Father could be very appallingly patient and creative sometimes…like this case. No matter what you do, however hard you try, he'll eventually get you. let the destined proceed what it should be, postponing makes matters worse.
He led away the other Keres at whistling. They won't go far for too long. William's sick of Keres as much as others, the more they round up, the more terrible the situations, the stickier his works are.
At least it could be less miserable. While never had he had intentions to help them unless it's for his own gain. not that he's selfish and heartless. He would never have used it if he had the choice, or have learned to conceal himself and aura from being sniffed, heard, touched, and felt earlier. There're something worse as to disobedience like Kronos, the longer you delay, the higher the interest. now they had it coming to themselves. Although he had watched the whole thing that how he, or others, died times—another ability unworthy to be bragged. William had wondered to what extent did he escape from the jaw of death repeatedly that his father would finally take his wares. Or he's likely to try to compensate in a way via seeing him through secretly, wasn't he?
"Okay. Thanks for the advice!" Peter snorted, "Creepy guy." He murmured, while Sam still stared at him as perplexedly as the bygone William. He may know William know something, good luck for him. But good luck's a shame—another granted by his father who picked up from a friend. They will regret soon.
William pretended unsurprised as he glided by. They used to say nothing for every time they met was in his works which're inappropriate to converse; he talked few words, William said even less. Thankfully they seldom saw each other as he grew up with little to no chances for he to utilize these powers.
He cast a remote glance on William before vanishing into air. William sighed soundlessly, making mental preparation for the familiar chain reactions in store.
people were inclined to astound that William didn't come of an African-American family, that's both his parents were black. there's nothing relating their parent-child relationship on the surface except that. It's his superstar player brother who inherited their father's unearthly good looks and deadly power, on the other hand those of William were more preventive, at least he needn't worry about responsibilities for the death of celebrity on the following day due to the his own victory (such as field goals). Their only common is the otherworldly sense of presence, whether it's quirkiness or dexterity.
William took a look back before the silhouette faded away to the core. Sam had no idea what before him, he's fortunate as it were. He just saw once, about to suffer less than what William has seen.
some questions are, how long, what're the process and upshot, why he must accustomed to experiencing and standing idly by others' suffering and despair over and again, just for substituting his deadline with scrutinizing someone falling off cliff down the sharp rocks or shrieking desperately at the top of his lungs with ferocious Africanized bees crawling over the body? why couldn't he shy away from this matter? has he ever had the choice to live an undisrupted normal life?
Because there's never fairness in Death, for you, for anybody, and for me.
Well, now he can also attribute his cynicism to the bloodline.
is it difficult to guess who his father and brother were?