Pittoo aimed his bow and planted the final arrow directly into the skull of the Keron as it lumbered between the corpses of its brethren towards him. Confirming that all of the creatures were dead, Pittoo rolled his shoulders, exhaling as the vestiges of his surge of adrenaline faded away. He lowered his bow, though his grip upon it remained firm and ready as he turned his eyes towards the mangled forms of the Blader. He frowned as he considered them.
Their having been unaccounted for had not turned out to be due to the relatively simple reason Pittoo had assumed. Instead, as Viridi had guided his path of flight low, he had seen the last remaining members of the unit fighting a losing battle with a decidedly larger group of Underworld foes. From what his eyes could tell, they had been intercepted en route to their appointed post, hence why Viridi had eventually noticed their absence. He had arrived too late to save any one of them, and the Underworld's cocktail of Keron, Monoeye and Specknose had turned upon him the moment he landed. A mistake.
Pittoo was a formidable opponent, though he liked to credit himself for his skill rather than acknowledging its most likely origin. One thing he could say for certain was that his skill with a bow and arrow far surpassed his brother's, and it was thus his choice weapon in combat. The corpses that lay at his feet were but a testament to that fact.
The Underworld's presence on Overworld did not come as much of a shock for him or Viridi, who had overseen the battle and served where his own line of sight could not. Hades had indeed been defeated and the main host of his army along with him, but there still remained stragglers upon the world of Man, vestiges of the Underworld with no way to return to their realm. They hid themselves in the shadows and their simplistic nature led them to desire only to continue to wreak havoc where they could. This day had been an unfortunate one for this particular group of Blader, but in the grand scheme of things, Viridi was one step closer to cleaning up her realm of the Underworld's influence.
These were for the most part the missions she sent him on, and it served both of them well enough. Pittoo had inherited his brother's impatience, though apparently to a more severe degree; he hated remaining idle and often sought ways to occupy his time. Viridi did not wish to send out her army to track down and destroy the remnants of the Underworld; Phosphora would have been the next logical step had she not occupied the responsibilities she did. Pittoo's pledging of his services to her thus turned out to be quite the convenient affair – and with impeccable timing, for not a few days after he had settled on her aerial fortress did the Underworld's stubborn presence on Overworld become known to her.
"Well, that was easy", the angel sighed with disappointment. "I almost wish there were more of them".
"I can see you inherited your brother's modesty", Viridi intoned dryly.
"The less I take after Pit, the better", Pittoo said.
"Oh, I don't know", the Goddess said. "I think Palutena has it good, what with Pit being her personal choir and singing her praises every chance he gets. You should follow his example".
Pittoo produced a wide yawn. "Not happening, Viridi".
"Pittoo, I swear one of these days – "
Fire suddenly arched down the angel's back, drawing a ragged shout from his lips. He dropped to his knees as a white-hot knife sank between his shoulders.
"Pittoo! Pittoo!"
"I'm…I'm fine", the angel growled, forcing the words past his teeth as his lips twisted into a snarl. He fought back the pain with the strength of his will, already beginning to feel it dissipate. As quickly as it came, it faded, and soon enough he was able to pull himself back up to his feet. The skin along his back prickled uncomfortably as with a frown, he lifted his face to the sky. He thought he had heard something.
"Pittoo. Hey! I'm talking to you".
He shook his head as though to clear it. "Sorry. What?"
"That's what I'm asking you. What was that about?"
Pittoo rolled his shoulders slowly, almost experimentally. "I don't know. Maybe one of those Keron got me and I didn't realise it".
"They didn't", Viridi told him. "Nothing hit you, Pittoo. I think you're a bit too good for the Hades' spawn. It's almost unfair, really".
The angel raised his brow, and even before he began to speak he could hear the Goddess groaning. "What was that, Viridi, a compliment?"
"I'm begrudgingly acknowledging your worth, meagre as it is", she replied with clear reluctance.
Pittoo snorted his laughter and gave a deep bow as his wings flared to life with Viridi's power. "I only aim to please, oh high and mighty one".
"Shut up, before I clip your feathers", the Goddess grumbled.
His lips curved into a grin that preluded yet another retort, but before he could speak he felt a sudden rush of giddiness that most certainly did not belong to him flood through his body. It was such a pure and powerful sensation that for one wild moment he thought it would lift him into the air all on its own. He heard the distant echoes of wild laughter in his mind, a voice that definitely didn't belong to the Goddess. In fact, he thought he recognised it. And then just as Viridi lifted him skyward –
"Yahoo…!"
Utterly perplexed, Pittoo turned his eyes high to the clouds drawn across the dark sky. He swore he had just heard his brother belt out the cheer.
Pittoo rolled his shoulders, hissing as momentary pain flashed along his back. He tilted his head to either side, stretching the muscles of his neck until he heard bones crack with satisfactory volume. Refocusing himself as the pain faded, Pittoo found his line of sight once more, drawing back the arrow until his fingers settled alongside his chin, his elbow cocked into the air parallel to the line of his shoulders. He held it there for a moment longer, making final, miniscule adjustments as he gazed unblinkingly ahead. And then he let it fly.
Silver-white light streaked through the air, covering the distance between Pittoo and his target in the blink of eye and spearing into the thick trunk of the courtyard's proudest tree. He let the bow fall and appraised his shot.
With the use of resins, he had drawn several concentric circles upon the trunk, the white lines hard and, despite his efforts, uneven in places. Nevertheless, they served their purpose. His shot had travelled further left than he had intended, settling into the third of seven circles; he had of course been aiming for the centre. He gave a small snarl as pain flashed between his shoulder blades once more, setting his fingers to the bow and drawing the string once more. His will birthed an arrow of light at his fingertips and he took aim once more.
It had been three days since the pain had knocked him to his knees and he had heard – or at least thought to have heard – the jubilant shout of his brother. Since then, the skin of his back seemed to prickle persistently, and the stubs of his wings would flutter without his intention as though trying to break free of something. Along with the pain that flashed through him with a pattern he had yet to grow accustomed to, Pittoo's mood had remained irritable over the past few days – more so than usual, which was saying something. That wouldn't help him right now, in fact, he had come here to quiet his mind. The arrow already embedded into the tree trunk shimmered as he took aim and slowed his breathing.
Thwock
Pittoo huffed and let the Silver Bow fall to his side, lifting a hand to his face and massaging his temples with annoyance. Periodically, he could hear the echo of his brother's voice shouting with indescribable joy within his skull and feared that some kind of telepathic connection was developing between them. He didn't know if he was ready to endure such a thing. The words he could make out where few and far between, and without context Pittoo had no idea what his brother appeared to be excitedly yelling about. All he wished for, frankly, was for Pit to shut up and stay that way. That was precisely one of the reasons he was not fond of the idea of making Skyworld his home.
His thumb and finger pressed into the sides of his head as he hissed once more, now familiar pain flashing through him. His wings fluttered with a sense of urgency, desperate to be free. Why that particular thought kept occurring to him he did not consciously know, but there was some part of him that continued the struggle to figure out what was happening even when he had long since given up such trains of thought. He lifted his head and glanced at his most recent shot, with a sigh lifting his bow once more to the ready.
"So this is one of your hiding places".
Pittoo took a moment before he turned to source of the voice, sighing with a hint of exasperation. Viridi stood beneath the archway that led into the courtyard, leaning against the grey stone with her arms folded and a smirk upon her lips. He had searched the fortress methodically upon his arrival, finding rooms tucked away into unsuspecting corners, conveniently – for him – hidden behind lush groves or at the end of long, twisting corridors. He had memorised the locations of all that he had come across, as they would no doubt come in handy when his patience would not serve to allow him to endure any company – which just so happened to be quite a common affair. Lately, however, he was running out of secluded places to retreat; Viridi would eventually track him down, and though it irked him he could not be too surprised. This was, after all, her fortress.
The Goddess pushed herself off the wall and strode into the courtyard, her mere presence within it stirring its natural inhabitants to life. Pittoo had grown used to seeing the crowns of trees shimmer when in her vicinity, flowers tilting towards her as she passed by and blossoming anew. As she approached him, he saw her eyes shift to tree he had marked and used for target practice. He braced himself for her rebuke – he supposed he was doing harm to nature – but to his surprise found that it did not come. Instead, she came within several paces of him and seemed to appraise his arrow. It had landed in the fourth circle. She looked across at him, a hand settling comfortably at her hip.
"That's a terrible shot".
Pittoo pressed his mouth thin, fuming at her comment. "Clearly you could do better".
"I could, actually", she said without pause.
Pittoo glanced at her and snorted as he stood straight once more and rolled his shoulders. "You're a Goddess", he said. "You deal in throwing lightning bolts, not shooting arrows".
"Ha ha", Viridi replied in a dry tone. "Give me the bow; I'll show you".
She held a hand out expectantly and he merely turned and looked down at the outstretched limb for a long moment. They were of a roughly equal height, Pittoo perhaps just an inch or two the taller. He had always found it strangely interesting that he could meet the eyes of a being much greater than him without having to lift his gaze high. He met her bright, brown eyes now, sure that she would read the utter scepticism he was currently feeling. Nevertheless, to humour her, he relaxed his posture and handed his bow over. She snatched it from his grasp with triumph in her eyes as though expecting him to withdraw it at the last moment.
"Watch and learn", she told him, wrapping her fingers around the body of the bow.
Pittoo folded his arms and took a step back, partly to give the Goddess space and partly for the sake of caution. He was expecting a mishap of some kind. He watched as she adjusted her grip on the bow several times, muttering in apparent dissatisfaction. Pittoo could only smirk as she realised that there wasn't any arrows on hand for her to use; she half turned to him as she pulled the bowstring experimentally.
"Where are the arrows?" she asked.
"In your mind", he answered with a mystic air.
"What?"
"This bow doesn't use conventional arrows", he explained briefly. "You just have to visualise it in your head and the bow will respond. Fairly simple".
It took her several tries and he only smiled unhelpfully when she glared at him in annoyance, finally managing to produce a projectile of golden-white light. It was clear that she was uncomfortable with the nature of the arrow as she nocked it and drew the string, but he was surprised to see the form that she held as she did so, displaying a clear confidence as she lifted the bow to the ready and took aim. She pulled the string much further backwards than necessary however, upsetting the line of her shoulders as her hand retreated past her cheek. A moment later, she released the arrow and light flashed through the air. Pittoo raised his eyebrow when it hit the tree.
Viridi turned to him, a grin curving her lips. "You were saying?"
Pittoo lowered his brow and shrugged with indifference. "Beginner's luck".
Viridi's lips fell open in surprised laughter. "Beginner's luck?" she repeated. "Open your eyes, Pittoo. My shot puts yours to shame".
Indeed it had. Pittoo's arrow stood in its lonely corner of the fourth circle whereas the Goddess had managed to score within the second, her arrow almost close enough to tease the perimeter of the first. The angel wasn't fazed however; he took the bow back from her and in a smooth, fluid motion nocked and drew another arrow, pausing only for a moment to line up his sight.
Thwock
"Beat that", he challenged Viridi, handing the bow back to her.
She promptly snatched it from him. "With pleasure".
It became quickly evident however, that she wasn't going to be able land another shot as close to the centre of the makeshift target board as her first had come. With increasingly vocalised frustration, Viridi's arrows began to pepper the third, fourth and fifth ring of the series of circles. Pittoo's expression grew smug with each of her attempts. She was holding the bow far too tightly, nocking her arrows too high and drawing the string too far backwards, on the whole disrupting the finely tuned balance of the tool. Pittoo gave an exaggerated yawn as her seventh shot again flew wide of the mark. The Goddess dropped her arm and glared at the bow with violent intentions written upon her eyes.
"What is this thing?" she demanded, brandishing the bow at him. "How on earth do you manage to use it? The balance is terrible".
Pittoo merely broke into laughter at Viridi's outburst. "I told you, Viridi. Beginner's luck".
She narrowed her eyes at him. "Here", she said as she tossed the weapon back to him, "I'll show you a real bow".
The ground trembled beneath his feet as he caught the Silver Bow and he looked on to see the tiles near to the Goddess' feet split by an unseen force. From dark depths of stone rose the closed bulb of a large, burgundy flower, its petals shimmering with a sheen of moisture as they gently overlapped one another. Curious, Pittoo watched as Viridi stroked a hand along the curve of the bulb, the flower shivering a moment later before its petals began to carefully peel apart, spilling open to reveal that which lay within.
"I can't believe you made me summon this", Viridi said with a shake of her head. "We haven't been acquainted for quite some time".
Pittoo arched his brow at the way she spoke, but even before he could think to question it, the bulb finally blossomed in its fullness and he bore witness to a weapon of astounding craftsmanship. The Goddess carefully lifted the bow from its pseudo-pedestal, gripping it with a sure and familiar hand. He immediately noticed how comfortable her poise appeared as she held the bow, despite it almost being as tall as she was.
Viridi seemed to forget his existence as she inspected the bow, its even curve a notable contrast to the relatively straight and sharp lines of his own bow. Unlike his Silver Bow, this one was carved of wood – and he didn't spare a moment to question its quality. Along the edges of the bow's body were inlaid intricate patterns, an unending, artistic sprawl of golden leaves. Where the wood gave way to the bowstring itself, it curved upwards and slightly away from its user; the Goddess briefly moved her fingers to each end of the bow, expertly testing the condition of the string. Removing her eyes from it for a moment, she reached forwards into the open flower, retrieving this time a quiver of arrows. Accompanied with a belt of sorts, Viridi set the bow aside and secured the quiver around her waist, the arrows lying in comfortable reach at her left thigh. And then she lifted the bow.
In a swift and practised movement, Viridi drew and nocked an arrow, pulling the string back to her jaw and barely taking the time to aim before releasing it.
THWOCK!
Pittoo's eyes widened. The sound of the arrow hitting its target echoed through the courtyard, the green fletching at the back of the arrow quivering with the force of its impact. But that was not why he was surprised; Viridi had struck just outside the first circle – precisely on the spot where his arrow was. Or rather, precisely on the spot where his arrow had been. He watched as silver-white light dissipated into the air, his arrow reduced to sparkling dust. He slowly turned his eyes to her; she was already looking at him.
"Beginner's luck?" she said, smirking. "Pssh. You don't know who I am, Pittoo".
He could only look on as she casually drew and nocked another arrow, noting absentmindedly that its green fletchings resembled leaves. Again spending seemingly no time at all to adjust and maintain her line of sight, she fired the arrow. The projectile quivered at the centre of the first circle.
"Alright", she said, lowering the bow and rolling her shoulders. "Had to work out a few kinks, but I'm good to go. How about we make this more interesting?" she said to him, casting a challenging glance in his direction.
He had no intention of refusing. "You're on".
The Goddess grinned at his response. "I'll give you fair warning; I was one of the best archers in the time of the old pantheon".
"That was then; this is now", Pittoo shrugged off her boast.
"Fighting talk, I like that", Viridi said. "Futile, but cute".
"Cute? Me? Right", Pittoo said, looking across at her with an arched brow and a wicked smirk. She read his meaning well enough, her eyes narrowing.
"Don't you even dare", she told him. "Well then, I'll just rearrange things a little…"
A minute or so later, Viridi had summoned up three separate targets, though unlike Pittoo's crude creation of his own these were each separate pieces of wood, spherical in design and anchored to the ground by a pair of wooden legs. The concentric circles upon them were marked by distinct, darkening hues of brown as one progressed towards the centre. She positioned the first target at fifty metres, the second at sixty and the last at seventy. Pittoo regarded the latter targets somewhat apprehensively; he rarely fired at such ranges. He favoured mid to short range combat, and a fight required a distinctly different style of shooting an arrow.
Viridi turned to him, gesturing towards the first and nearest target as she smiled sweetly. "Angels first".
Phosphora groaned aloud as her body ached, fatigue channelling through her and tempting her to collapse right where she stood and give in to the lure of sleep. That wouldn't be appropriate, however, at least not now that Pittoo had taken residence upon the fortress. Besides, her personal rooms were not too far away. Fighting the insistent bouts of utter laziness that threatened to sweep out her feet from underneath her, Phosphora pressed on.
After Pittoo had chanced upon the remnant group of Underworld creatures who had slain a unit of Blader, Viridi had instructed her to co-ordinate sweeps of the surrounding area in search for others. Phosphora had taken it upon herself to extend the range of the searches as they uncovered and dealt with two more groups, the latter of the two at least twice the size of the group Pittoo had come across. Suffice to say that her sleeping hours had been few and far between the past few days, but as the search discovered no other signs of the Underworld's presence, she decided to dial down the level of activity of the search parties, allowing herself some much needed rest.
Nearing her rooms, Phosphora's attention was drawn away from the singular thought to fall unconscious upon a wide, luxurious bed upon hearing two familiar voices floating along the corridor towards her. She of course knew them, but despite that she found it peculiar; the voices did not appear to be at war with each other. Intrigued, Phosphora turned away from her original path, instead following that which the voices laid before her and eventually coming upon a courtyard tucked away in the corners of the fortress. It was not a place unknown to her, but she had very little reason to come here regularly, if at all.
As she crept up to and pressed herself along the wall as it jutted forwards and melded with an archway, she heard the voices punctuated by the sounds of impacts. She dared to poke her head out, finally bearing witness to the rather remarkable scene. Pittoo and Viridi were somehow managing to peaceably exist in each other's vicinity.
Phosphora could hardly believe her ears, much less her eyes.
Both of them were wielding bows – something she had never seen or known Viridi to be able to do – and launching arrows at targets a considerable distance from where they stood. It appeared to be a contest, and Viridi appeared to be winning. In fact, it seemed that she was thoroughly thrashing the angel, for Phosphora could see a rather smug expression on the Goddess' face and arrows fletched with green jutting from the centre of each of the three targets. Looking to Pittoo, she saw a rather interesting expression upon his features.
As he and Viridi took their turns, he would cast a lingering glance at the Goddess, watching as she smoothly nocked and drew her arrow, sending it lancing through the air. His eyes were thoughtful, his mouth caught halfway between a smile and a frown. As for Viridi…well, Phosphora could only smile at how animated her Goddess had become. Her quips were accompanied by a playful tilt to her lips, and her retorts to his words as swift as her arrows. The banter between them brought a wide grin to Phosphora's lips as she listened in on them.
She pressed herself against the wall as she glimpsed the Goddess appearing to turn to glance over her shoulder; she hoped Viridi was too engaged in what she was doing to sense her presence. Sleep lulled her once again and a long, shuddering yawn accompanied its call. She planned to visit Skyworld on the morrow, so decided that it would be best for her to get some rest. She'd need her energy when spending time with Pit.
Pittoo watched her as she drew and nocked another arrow, keeping his gaze furtive. Her transformation from the irritated Goddess fumbling about with his Silver Bow to the perfectly calm and at ease Viridi nailing shot after shot into the innermost circle of the targets had all but intrigued him. And – he inwardly admitted – impressed him. She had yet to miss a single shot, even at the furthest range. Her arrows stood neatly side by side at the centre of the board, while his tended to occupy the second and third circles. He had landed two arrows at the centre of the target, and that was only at the fifty metre range. Suffice to say he had never seen anyone shoot like Viridi before.
Lifting the bow, she pulled the string back until her fingers nestled beside her jaw, and Pittoo watched her. There was something about the Goddess that appealed to him, something that drew his attention and pinned it beneath the weight of fascination.
It was not necessarily her appearance; Viridi did not possess the sheer, breath-taking beauty of Palutena or the attractive, youthful charm of Phosphora, attributes that Pittoo would readily acknowledge though they did not entice him. Viridi – whether by her own choice or simply the decision of a greater power – took the form of a child on the cusp of adolescence; she would never have the full figure of her fellow Goddess. He did find his eyes lingering upon her at times, however, usually when she strutted past him with her blonde hair bouncing in time to her stride. He wondered how long it would be when she did not have it fashioned into an elegant tail at the side of her head.
As she held the arrow nocked and drawn, sighting her target, Pittoo found her to be exhibiting that which inexplicably appealed to him. It was an air of complete confidence; perhaps it was one bordering often on arrogance, but Pittoo was certainly not one to judge on that front. The Goddess wore her pride for all to see, and so did he. She held her body with a sure poise, her weight centred at her core as she maintained the line of her shoulders. The bow was almost the length of her, but she controlled it. It dawned on him belatedly that she was holding the arrow drawn from much longer than necessary; her bright brown eyes shifted towards him.
"Pittoo, you're staring".
"Observing", the angel replied without skipping a beat.
"Observing", she repeated softly.
"Your technique", he said. "You need to show me how to shoot like that".
Viridi grinned. "What was that, Pittoo, a compliment?"
The angel rolled his eyes, lifting his hands in a gesture of surrender. "Alright, fine. Yes. You're better than I am. A little".
"Mm", she hummed, lowering the bow. She walked over and handed it to him. He took it and immediately gave a grunt of approval; the balance and weight of the bow felt good in his hands. He saw Viridi watching him in the corner of his vision, one hand settled on her hip as the other spun the arrow she had been preparing to shoot between her fingers.
"Ha", she laughed, reading his expression and apparently his thoughts too. "Your peasant's bow isn't looking so good now, is it?"
"Peasant's bow?" Pittoo said. "You do realise the Silver Bow is a precursor to Pit's Palutena Bow, crafted by Palutena herself".
Viridi shrugged. "Your point? Now this", she said, pointing the arrow at her bow, "this is a real bow. You newbies have forgotten how to craft real weapons. I'm sure Dyntos laughs at you poor fools daily".
Pittoo shook his head and sighed, lifting the bow to the ready and testing the string, curling three fingers around it and drawing it – or at least attempting to. The string was wound tighter than any other bow he had ever taken his hand to. Viridi's grin was wide when he turned to her, his eyes dipping to verify her form. She had drawn it with an apparent lack of effort.
She folded her arms as she held his eyes. "I know what you're thinking, Pittoo. If you value your life, you'll keep that one to yourself".
He took her advice, particularly after what he had just learned. He could barely get the string to budge, a fiery ache building at his shoulder as he strained his arm with all his might. She had drawn it as casually as he did his own bow.
As a Goddess, it was needless to say that Viridi was powerful, but he had never imagined her – particularly considering her form – to have possessed such strength.
Well, that at least explained why her arrows had appeared to hit the targets almost within the same moment she let them loose. Pittoo had no hope of using this bow, it was simply beyond him. It brought him no shame to admit such a thing either, in fact, as he turned to the Goddess to hand her back the bow, a new sense of fascination began to brew within him. No sooner did she take it from, however, did a crushing sense of pain also stir within him.
Pittoo cried out, his back arching with a phantom strike that sliced between his shoulders. He fell heavily to his knees as the stumps of his wings flared desperately, and then onto his hands as the knife sunk deeper, pulling against the resistance of his flesh.
"Pittoo!"
Pittoo fought the pain once more with the strength of his will, appearing to push it away for a brief moment. "I'm fi – argh!"
It struck again, ruthless and unforgiving. Pittoo buried his face in his arms as his entire form shuddered, flashes of a waking dream painted across his eyes. He saw wide, white wings surging forth from his back, momentary images distorted by a blur of confusion as the pain watered his gaze. He was only barely aware of Viridi's voice as she scrambled to his side, a hand massaging comforting circles upon his back as he trembled, for she knew not what else to do. The pain reached its crescendo, and Pittoo shook his head and bit his tongue to keep himself from screaming. He saw the wings spread, an angel taking flight with a sense of joy that thrummed through him and left him shaking with a laughter that was not his own.
Viridi spoke with concern as he slowly lifted his face. "Pittoo, are you alright?"
There were tracks of tears running down his cheeks, and he didn't know whether they were of pain or happiness. A happiness that was not his. He breathed heavily as the pain gradually subsided, lifting himself off the ground and feeling a deep rooted anger stirring within him, one that he couldn't explain. When Viridi moved to sweep her thumb along his cheek and erase his tears, she only served to compound that anger.
"I'm fine", he said shortly, turning his face away from her touch and finding his feet in a swift, rough motion. "Fine".
He walked away, his Silver Bow left behind as he left the courtyard with no intention but to be by himself. Viridi would know where he would eventually seclude himself, but choose not to intrude upon him. His eyes were narrowed as he walked; he was angry with himself for his display of weakness before the Goddess, angry with his brother for reasons he didn't know, and angry at the sense of foreboding slowly stealing over him, poisoning his peace of mind. The stumps of his wings fluttered as he stalked through the fortress.
A/N: Well, this ended up being longer than I originally intended. I suppose writing Viridi/Dark Pit is turning out to be more interesting than I'd expected, didn't realise how well it works until I started writing this. Anyway, hope you all enjoy. Till next time *walks off into the mist*.
