Title: Muses of a Dead Man
Series:
Authors: Howla or TheeBycth (SilverLoyalWolf)
Disclaimer:
The gods, Kai, Xander, and stuff are all mine.
Rating:
PG
Genre: Fantasy
Spoilers" N/A
Pairings: N/A
Warnings: None really, some violence and reference to dead people?
Story
Synopsis: Kai and Xander are two strange boys sharing the
same secret of the Gods within them. Get an insight on their thoughts
after the mind-blowing battle with the father of all gods and how
they come to the realization of their final goal.
Author's
Notes: I was bored, stuck in Chinese class with nothing to do
but think up of what my characters would be thinking on the aftermath
of the battle. Not much else.
Challenge: N/A
Previous Chapter: The Last Banquet
Next Chapter: Death's Song
I never really knew what she saw in me. Yet when I ran towards her after the fight, she returned my kiss willingly. I had no parents, no identity, and lived off the salary of a part-time job I did in between saving the world and doing chemistry homework. I'm not even sure if Kaitso Atokata is my real name. I don't remember anything past the accident. "You're dead," Sadarri told me once when I asked her about it, "You've been dead for thirteen years." She refused to tell me anything more.
But my amnesia was not that bad. Only missing a couple years. Perhaps the worst of all, I was a carrier, a vessel continuing the treasonous soul-reaping god of hell, who tried to kill his family in his quest for total dominance and overwhelming power. It was perhaps fortunate that his malicious plan failed, but not before succeeding in ripping out the throat of his brother. And still, she returns the affection I have for her, even though this hellish demon inside of me could break loose at any moment and tear her apart. Why? I don't know, behind those deep blue eyes. But there is one thing I do know: Zamorax will have to climb over my dead body to get to her.
Alexander/Guthisro
I always had that dream. I would be drowning in a thick liquid, unable to breath. I finally break the surface, gasping for air. It would be dark, almost pitch black, yet I could see in the shadows. It was then that I would notice the things floating around me in thick masses. Bodies. Human corpses everywhere. And this reddish liquid I was in…
It wasn't until I met Fenris that I understood this dream. Sacrifices. I was made from sacrifices. I was freakin' built out of dead people.
How would I feel? Disgusted? Guilt? Remorse? Hatred? Maybe even self-pity? I'm not so sure myself, but I cover up my mixed feelings with the usual smart-alecky jokes and arguments. It was almost my job to be the light-hearted and carefree one of the group, which was why I didn't tell them. I didn't tell them who I really was, what I was. Because I didn't want them to treat me differently; I didn't want my relationship, my occupation to change. See, it's my duty to joke, poke fun at the couples, primarily the wolfas. But perhaps it was just jealousy. Bitter resentment towards those who have what I don't have. Love. Who would love someone like me? I was a walking mass murderer, carrying millions upon millions of lives upon my shoulders. But Spikey is no different. What I am is miniscule to the amount of souls Zamorax has reaped. Perhaps that's why I make fun of him so much, argue and fight, while secretly hiding my resentment towards him. Would I rather wish that I were him? Me, vessel of Zamorax, my very own killer, while he be the vessel of sacrifice? I don't know. I just don't know what to think anymore. But one thing's for sure: I'm Xander, not Guthisro, and not even a goddamn psychotic utopia-obsessed daddy hell bent on destroying the universe is going to stop that.