Blinding Shadows. The 78th Games.
VI. Blissful Ignorance.
And I said
If crazy equals genius
If crazy equals genius
Then I'm a fucking arsonist
I'm a rocket scientist
If crazy equals genius
You can set yourself on fire
But you're never gonna burn, burn, burn
You can set yourself on fire
But you're never gonna learn, learn, learn hey!
Hades Blackstone. 18.
District Twelve Male.
✦✦✦
As is the norm, Hades Blackstone wakes up next to Asteria, his Asteria. As much as he would like to spend as long as possible in bed with her, it is only natural for him to wake up first, and so he does, stretching out his arms and legs before sitting up, running a hand through his hair to smooth it back into place. He's still got one arm around Asteria, who has curled up against him, her head resting on his chest. She looks peaceful, her breathing slow and even, and he can't help but find himself smiling at the sight. He'd never tire of seeing her like this.
His hand moves from her back to rest on her belly, gently rubbing it in small circles. "Good morning, baby," he says softly. Asteria stirs slightly, mumbling something unintelligible, and then she slowly opens her eyes, looking up at him and giving him one of those smiles that makes his heart soar every time he gets to see them.
"Hey," he says, leaning forward and kissing her on the forehead.
"Hi," she replies and yawns, "You sleep alright?"
"As well as I could after last night."
Asteria chuckles at that and reaches up, cupping the side of Hades' face in her hands and giving it a soft kiss before resting back against him again. Her hands trail down to his neck, where she notices the marks on his neck that she'd previously bestowed upon him. She laughs, "I'm sorry for those."
"No, you're not," Hades rolls his eyes, then darts them towards the dark red love-bites Asteria's given him, remembering how much he enjoyed the feeling of her teeth against his flesh last night, "You know I like it, though."
Hades has always been quite the fan of pain, as sad as it is. Panem's an awful place, and he's but a horrible part of it. Like everybody else in this world, he deserves to suffer, and he much rather it be at the dainty hands of Asteria Kerning than anyone else.
And perhaps that's why he lets the older girl do whatever she wants to him, whether it be hours clad in ropes and leather or three whips of a cane against his back while his screams are muffled by a pillow. He knows that she'll never feel the same for him, driven to go to Hades' namesake and back for a single kiss, but he tries not to think about that.
Really, he just wants to be in the moment with her. With his Asteria.
"Five more minutes," Hades begs as soon as he realizes that she's getting up for the day, "Please?"
She giggles once she notices his puppy eyes, "You have a busy day at work today. You should get up too."
He's running out of time, he realizes, and that's what leads him to offer, "I'll let you hit me..."
Her brow furrows, and she gives him a questioning yet seductive look, one he knows all too well, "Hades...you want me to hit you?"
Hades nods excitedly, a large grin plastered on his face, "That's what I said!"
Asteria sighs, shaking her head at his antics, but he knows she loves his enthusiasm. His eyes follow her as she stands up and grabs her robe off the chair, revealing the leather paddle hidden underneath. She drapes herself in her silken garment and looks down at the paddle, "You said you want me to hit you?"
"With that paddle!" he adds eagerly.
She shakes her head again, rolling her eyes, before nodding, "Alrighty, alright."
Asteria walks over to Hades and puts a gentle hand onto his cheek, caressing the scars there gently. He leans into her touch, sighing happily. She grins as she places a kiss on his scarred jawline and moves to the other cheek, leaving kisses on each of the scars she's made over the past year as she goes. His skin feels warm beneath her lips, and she hums lightly to herself as she continues, pressing kisses up to his earlobe and finally, reaching up to cup his face with both hands.
This action causes her to lean back slightly and meet Hades' gaze, "Oh, I'm sorry. You said to hit you, not kiss you."
"Well, I changed my mind! Please kiss me, Asteria! Please!" he says desperately.
Asteria stares up at him, trying very hard to stop the smile growing across her features, "Fine."
She leans forward and presses her lips to his, pressing them firmly together.
The kiss lasts for a few seconds before it breaks apart. Asteria pulls away, taking a step back. Hades blinks in confusion and looks back at her, his brows raised.
"What was that for?"
"For being a brat," she says simply.
He gasps, "Why, Asteria! That was not very nice of you!"
She just shrugs in response, laughing.
"Asteria!"
She smirks at him, placing her hands on her hips, "You know what I do to brats, don't you?"
"Yes, of course," Hades rolls his eyes, a smirk on his face, "But we were talking about my punishment!"
"Your punishment?"
"Mhm!"
"Oh, so we're back to the punishment thing again, are we?" she raises a brow.
"Yes, that's exactly right, Miss Kerning," he says, crossing his arms over his chest.
"Well, I guess I should start by telling you that I'm going to punish you for your behavior last night," she says, walking closer to him.
"Oh really? And what might that be?" he asks, raising a brow.
"I told you very clearly that you mustn't say a word as the wax of the candle hits your back, Hades."
Hades huffs, "I say do anything!"
She smirks at him, "I suppose you didn't."
"So, you're punishing me for doing nothing?" he questions.
"Not quite," Asteria admits, "I was thinking of doing more than that actually."
She steps closer, her hips coming to rest against his, and she leans forward, pressing her lips against his.
Hades gasps, his eyes widening as he wraps his arms around her waist, pulling her flush against him. He deepens the kiss, deepening it until they're both breathless. They pull apart, panting heavily.
"Now, I'm going to tell you what I'm going to do to you," she whispers in his ear, causing shivers to run down his spine.
Hades smiles, wrapping his arms tighter around her as he presses his lips against the side of her head, nuzzling against her hair.
"Whatever you wish, Asteria."
"Hmm, yes, exactly, Hades," she teases, kissing his chin and moving away from him, grabbing her robe from the ground. She puts it on before turning around to face him, her hands on her hips. She gives him a smug, knowing smile, "I' m going to make you scream, my love."
Hades laughs, a joyful sound escaping him at her words. He leans forward, capturing her lips once more, and he doesn't waste any time returning her kiss. The longer he kisses her, the less nervous he is, and the more he feels like everything will be okay.
He doesn't know that in Panem, nothing will ever indeed be okay, especially when he finds himself in the bed of an abuser morning after morning, enabling her to treat him like an object because he wants her to. He doesn't know that it's his fault he's going down this cycle of brutality, even if it's just because he wants to forget... well... everything.
There's a slight hitch in his breath when Asteria's pointed nails dig deep into his back, and he moans slightly, tightening his grip on her waist while he continues to kiss her.
"Is this a good idea?" she murmurs, breaking the kiss for a second, staring intensely into his chocolate brown eyes.
Hades nods, breathing in her scent that reminds him so much of home, "Yes. Very. It's the only way I can possibly keep myself sane."
She smiles gently and nods at his response. She looks at him for another moment before looking down at the whip in her hand, "Well then, I suggest we get started. After all, I promised you that I wouldn't hold back anymore, did I not?"
"Of course you did," Hades nods, smiling at her through the haze of lust filling his mind, "I'm yours to do with as you please, Miss Kerning."
"Good boy," she replies, nodding approvingly.
Hades' heart is racing in his ears as he watches her approach him once more, and he can barely breathe. When he thinks his legs aren't long enough to support him, when every bone in his body starts screaming to stop, he stops them, forcing himself to stand still, and allow her to come towards him. She holds out the whip, one of those small, silver ones that only seem used by rich girls, to him, holding it up to his neck.
And he knows.
It takes everything in him not to gasp audibly.
"Are you scared of me, Mr. Blackstone?" she asks, her voice teasingly light and teasing.
"No, of course not," he responds, "I would never fear such a beautiful woman."
She chuckles softly, shaking her head as she reaches out and traces her fingers along his jawline, stopping at his scar, "You're so sweet, Hades. But you're not scared of me."
"I am not," he confirms.
Her hand moves from his face and down to the end of the whip, pulling it down to his throat, "Then, let me give you something to be afraid of."
She grips the handle tightly in her fist, squeezing as she brings the tip of the weapon to his throat, her eyes watching his face closely.
He stares up at her, his chest rising and falling rapidly. He swallows hard.
Slowly, she raises the whip and runs it down his neck, drawing blood. It drips down his collarbone, staining his skin red as he looks up at her. She smirks, letting go of the handle and stepping away. He tries to swallow but finds that his throat refuses to move, no matter how hard he tries.
"See?" she smirks, "Now you're scared."
"Please-" he chokes out.
She chuckles again, shaking her head, "That won't work on me, Mr. Blackstone."
Hades closes his eyes, clenching his teeth to try and prevent the tears that are forming from spilling over. She turns and walks over to his chair, sitting down behind it.
"Where are you going?" he manages to choke out, unable to stop his tears from falling.
She pauses momentarily, glancing over her shoulder at him, "I'm sorry, Mr. Blackstone, but I've got a little surprise for you."
"What kind of surprise?"
"Don't worry, Mr. Blackstone, I'll explain everything later. For now, I have some things to attend to."
He shakes his head, "I want to know what surprise it is now."
"Just trust me."
With that, she leaves.
Hades watches her leave takes a deep breath, trying hard to calm himself down. He can feel his heart beating furiously against his rib cage, and his palms begin to grow wet. Every single muscle in his body roars with pain, and Hades hates that all he wants is more of it.
It feels like fire, searing him with pain. He grits his teeth against it, his eyes watering from the effort. He takes a shaky, trembling breath.
He's already thinking about when he'll see Asteria next and whatever it is that she'll decide to do to him. Hades will deserve whatever it is that comes his way; that much can be said for sure, no matter what it might be.
His eyes dart across the room, landing on the glass jar of wax, which is still sitting where he left it. His eyes widen, and he immediately stands, rushing over to it, reaching in and taking it from the table, heading to the bathroom door so he can get changed.
He walks inside and sits down on the edge of the tub, placing the jar on the sink countertop, turning the faucet on, and letting it fill with water.
He turns around and faces the mirror, leaning forward on his knees, resting his elbows on them as he stares straight ahead. He takes a deep breath, running his hands through his hair, pushing it away from his forehead and off his shoulders.
"Damn it all," he curses quietly, wiping his eyes, "Damn Asteria Kerning for making me feel this way."
Hades reaches out and places his right hand against the wall, leaning back as he rests his left forearm against the edge of the tub, rubbing his thumb across the surface of the metal. He notices a slight red tint to the water from the blood Asteria drew and sighs, "Damn me for enjoying it."
Aeolus Galvani. 12.
District Five Male.
✦✦✦
Aeolus Galvani just wants to run.
He's sat next to Vulcan yet again, listening to the way older man muse about the dangers of the world outside the Bright Realm, but he's yet again not paying attention because he just wants to run.
"What did I just say?" The acolyte looks him in the eyes with a stern grin, one Aeolus is no longer afraid of after all this time.
Instead of answering his question, the young boy simply rolls his eyes and shrugs his shoulders. This silent rebellion, of course, prompts Vulcan to pester him again, "Aeolus... I asked, what was I just saying?"
He speaks softly, a distinct whistle in his tone, "No clue." He leans back in his living room chair, his black hair brushing against the cushions. He blinks once, then twice, but ultimately opens his eyes with great disappointment over the fact his "mentor" remains sat across the room from him. "You can leave now," Aeolus sighs.
Vulcan shakes his head at that comment, "I'm not going anywhere until you talk to me like a civilized human being."
"Well, then I guess you'll be here a long time," Aeolus laughs at his own joke, completely ignoring the glaring look of annoyance on Vulcan's face.
"Look," he tries again, leaning forward and placing both hands on the armrest of the chair. He stars down at the boy who sits opposite him with an irritated expression of his own, "I know you don't want to listen to my teachings, but I don't really want to teach somebody so blatantly disrespectful."
Aeolus scoffs, shaking his head slowly, "I didn't say anything rude."
At that point, Vulcan leans even more forward and raises his voice for emphasis as if he were yelling or perhaps throwing something across the room. "Do you hear yourself? You're mocking me!"
To that, he simply sticks his index fingers in his ears and hisses, "I don't hear anything, actually."
He attempts to spring up from the sofa, knees bent and ready for a run, but of course, Azail's hands land themselves atop Aeolus' shoulders before he can get more than a few feet away. He tilts the young boy's head upwards and glares into his eyes, "Now, where do you think you're going?"
Aeolus taps his left foot on the ground and rolls his eyes, "You know, I haven't thought about that." His voice is mocking and scornful of the older man.
Vulcan pulls his hand from Aeolus' shoulder as he stares into his mentees brown eyes, searching for any sign of guilt, but there is none. Instead, it is only amusement, which causes him to narrow his eyes.
"You are very annoying sometimes, you know," he says bluntly, crossing his arms.
"Oh, I'm well aware." He sits back down on the couch and chuckles, "The same could be said about you, Mr. Libertine, but I bet you don't have the gusto to admit it."
To be completely honest, Vulcan Libertine is beyond just annoying to Aeolus. Still, the same could be said about every single one of those sycophants that meanders around the Bright Realm, scared for their lives at the very notion of leading their underground headquarters.
Acolytes like Vulcan are to blame for that, though, of course. Aeolus can hardly go an hour without hearing one of them warn, "Outside of our covenant is a dark and scary place. You shouldn't leave." He wants to laugh at them. Hell Aeolus wants to laugh at every single dweller who actually believes there's critical danger associated with life outside of the Realm.
It's absurd, honestly.
However, Vulcan isn't amused, and if anything, his scowl deepens.
"Aeolus..." he starts, sounding as if he wants to lecture him some more, "I'm just trying to protect you. We're all distraught for you."
Sure you are, Aeolus thinks, once again rolling his eyes. They sure weren't "worried for him" when they were throwing insults at him in the Realm commons, telling his parents it's best they dispose of their "cursed and harrowed son" since he's threatening "everybody's safety." If that's the Realm's definition of worried, Aeolus doesn't even want to know what they do when they're actually angry.
(Well, actually, he does know. He remembers when he was seven and an older lady tried to escape. They gathered all the dwellers in the commons and made them watch as one of the Acolytes, probably Vulcan, shot her in the head before claiming the outside world was "far worse.")
"You're protecting me by not letting me experience an actual life?"
He can barely contain his smile at Vulcan's exasperated sigh, which he knows means he's finally reached the other's limits, but he doesn't care.
"Why are you so stubborn?"
He shakes his head, "Because I don't see why I have to listen to you guys telling me how bad it is out there. How awful, terrifying and scary everything is out there! All those creatures, monsters, demons, and the like! It sounds insane and stupid! Why am I supposed to trust you?"
The words flow out of him quickly, the frustration and anger bubbling through every word, and he's almost surprised at himself; how many times has he voiced these same thoughts regarding the people who live in the Realm?
How many times had the same argument been thrown at him?
And how many times had Vulcan laughed in his face?
Far too many for Aeolus to remain complicit.
"Because the outside world is terrifying," Vulcan tells him with a straight face, "You've seen what they do every year."
"The Games?" He questions, "Yeah, I guess they're bad, but we have to go to the Reapings anyways. Even you guys can't protect us from them."
Is it wrong that Aeolus has actually been eagerly awaiting his first Reaping ceremony in just one month? He's never left the Realm before, never seen the natural light of the sun or felt the wind blow across his face, through his hair. Even if he's just going to be gone for a few hours, he simply cannot wait.
More than anything, he just wants to see the world outside a square mile underground compound. Aeolus just wants to be free.
"There are many things out there that are dangerous, that could easily kill you in addition to the Games," Vulcan tells him as he folds his hands across his chest, "Just because you can see the sun doesn't mean you know its true power."
"So, I'm supposed to believe you when I have absolutely zero evidence that there is a threat out there or at least one that can harm me?" He asks incredulously.
His mentor shrugs, "That's not the case."
"But you just keep telling me-"
"Because," Vulcan interrupts, and then his voice goes soft again as he continues, "you are a child Aeolus. Children shouldn't be exposed to such things."
"But I-"
"You will die, Aeolus." Vulcan states, "You will die, whether it be from the games or from the monsters out there, if you're exposed to it for more than a couple of days if you aren't careful..." He trails off and glances away from Aeolus, looking slightly uncomfortable as if he were having an internal debate on the issue, "And lord knows you'd never be careful."
"You've never been outside," Aeolus retorts quickly, "How would you know? Or anyone else for that matter?"
Vulcan looks back to him, giving him a cold stare for a moment before shaking his head in disapproval, "You're not listening." Then he stands, walking towards Aeolus, and grabs onto his upper arms forcefully as he begins to shake them, "Aeolus, do you understand what you're saying?
The world outside isn't safe! The world isn't safe! This world is filled with monsters and danger; there's nothing good to it out there! There's nothing kind! Nothing kind! No one good!" Vulcan repeats, raising his voice slightly over the last few words.
As he speaks, Aeolus feels his body begin to tense involuntarily, although it's pretty evident that he's doing a poor job of masking it. It's not because he's afraid of the outside world. Oh heavens no, it's because everything Vulcan's saying just makes Aeolus long for freedom even more.
For just one day...just one minute, he wants to take flight, he wants to fly to wherever he pleases...he wants to make his own choices in life. He's so sick and tired of being a piece in the Realm's false puzzle.
He sits back and snarls, "You're getting a bit worked up now, aren't you?"
Vulcan nods, "Yes! Yes, I am, yes, I am! Look," he pauses, taking his hands away from the younger boy and pointing a finger into the air with an accusing expression on his face, "Look what you've done! You've pissed me off; that's what you've done!"
Aeolus laughs, "No," he replies sarcastically, "You've pissed yourself off. But you can't prove anything by shouting your head off at me, can you?"
A growl escapes Vulcan's throat as he clenches his fists.
"Listen," he says firmly, "I don't like being dragged into this argument every fucking time you open your damn mouth, but you need to understand where my position is."
"I never asked for you to talk to me, even." Aeolus stammers, "My parents sent you to talk to me, 'cause they're too cowardly to admit to me personally how damn wrong they are."
It's the truth. His parents are embarrassed that he's their son and a traitor nevertheless, yet they send Vulcan to talk to him because they don't know how to explain it. Pathetic. They're wrong, and they don't know how to talk about it. Because if they really cared about him, they'd talk it out. And if they genuinely cared for him, maybe they wouldn't send someone with such a low opinion of him. For better or for worse, the two of them have decidedly failed as parents.
"Aeolus," Vulcan sighs heavily, his face growing serious, "You are threatening the very sanctity of our Realm for the sake of your childish fantasies. I don't blame your parents for growing tired of handling you like this."
Aeolus frowns deeply, unable to hide his annoyance at the comment, "Oh yeah? Well, then why did they bring you here?"
Because they thought that Vulcan might help them. That Vulcan might know what to say to make him feel better, but instead, Vulcan has proven that he won't even try. He only sees the surface of things which shows the people around him, rather than the real world. He acts likthere are's children Aeolus' age prodding people's brain's out, which is probably his favorite of Vulcan's batshit stories.
"Because they care about you," he answers calmly, but it does nothing to quell Aeolus' temper, which flares brightly, and he finds himself standing suddenly, eyes narrowed dangerously.
"Yeah, right they do," He practically shrieks, feeling the rage welling inside of him, "Get out of my room!" He hisses until Vulcan gets up from the couch. His face reddens as he realizes how he must look right now with his red, angry eyes glowing and the furious expression still etched upon his face.
Yet, he can't find it within himself to care. Not when he's upset and angry, not when he's lost all sense of rationality and reason. The only thing he understands is anger. He has no clue how he'll deal with it otherwise.
"Leave!"
"Fine!" Vulcan yells, throwing his hands up in the air exasperatingly as he marches towards the door, "I'll leave! Go fuck yourself with your delusions!"
The slam of the door echoed throughout the room.
As Aeolus watches him go, he can't help but wonder if there's a way for his one day of seeing the outside world to last forever.
Atra Methusael. 14.
District Ten Male.
✦✦✦
Wherever Atra Methusael goes, chaos is almost sure to follow.
They call him the Harbinger of Havoc 'round Ten for a reason. It seems like Atra's always planning something, whether it be a heist or a rave or just a plain 'ole good time. That's why Azrael loves him so much, or at least that's what his way older friend said to him back in the day when they first met. She calls Atra her little buddy now, and he sure loves being her partner in crime.
He just wishes someday she'd let him kill somebody, but nopity nope, she always says, "killings for big kids, Atra. You're just a little guy." And so, he follows her around anyway in hopes she'll let him shake down somebody off her hit list, but it's to no avail.
One particular day, he's tugging at the seem of her shirt with a shit-eating grin on his face when he declares
"I'm gonna kill somebody. I'm going ta do it tonight!"
He's about to burst from glee before she shakes her head and puts a hand on his shoulder. "Not tonight, Atra! We're goin' to another bar, alright? And you're not killin' anybody until you're at least sixteen and a half."
"You got to kill somebody when you were my age," he argues childishly.
She smiles sweetly. "Doesn't mean you can."
His brow furrows. "But... I'm only enough that I can be reaped and forced to kill people anyways! If anything, this'll just prepare me just in case I get picked or somethin'!"
"No," she reiterates. "You're not killing someone tonight or any night." She opens her notebook and examines the list of people inside it, "Right, so after we get our drinks, it seems I'll be killing Sheol Osorio while you watch."
He can't help wanting to be prepared, 'cause his brother Oael sure wasn't when he was reaped, and well... he's dead now, which indeed goes to show 'ya! At times, Atra does sure miss having his brother 'round. He was a smidge less uptight than Azrael... then again, he's dead, so he probably should've been more uptight.
"Will you buy me alcohol first?"
Her lips turn up into a smirk. "If you promise you don't try and kill anything, I'll allow it."
He nods solemnly. His smile soon widens as he jumps up and down, squealing loudly.
"Yes, yes, yes, yes!"
Azrael laughs and pulls him by the arm towards the door to the bar with a smile.
When they get there, Azrael orders two drinks (one for her and one for him) before sitting at a nearby booth to read over their notes for tonight's job. Atra looks around the bar, taking in the atmosphere, trying to find someone who'll be an easy target if his sister gives him any trouble. It's kinda quiet tonight, so he doesn't think anyone will come at them, though, so he figures he'll be okay with watching. After a moment, a man wearing dark sunglasses approaches the table Azrael has chosen to sit at, and Atra feels a sudden spike of anxiety rush through him. He thinks fast on his feet.
"Hey! What brings ya here all alone?" Azrael asks, making conversation. Atra relaxes a bit as her eyes move towards the newcomer. The man is dressed in expensive clothes, wearing sunglasses, and looks like a wealthy businessman. A businessman would look better with dark shades, actually. Or maybe a doctor. Atra's heard they dress up nice to look more professional. Yeah, the guy definitely wouldn't last long in his and Azrael's line of work. He's for sure on her list. And it's weird that the bar only has the three of them inside.
The man smiles, "Can't I just go out for a drink alone?"
"I don't know, can he?" He leans over, and whisper's in Azrael's ear.
But he isn't all that great at whispering, which means that the man hears him and says, "Why the fuck are you talking about me?"
Atra gasps, clutching his chest dramatically in mock offense. "Well! She was simply asking if you're alone, sir. I thought that if a person were to be lonely, they might be more jovial. Like myself, this lady right here!" he points towards himself and gestures to Azrael before continuing. "You see how I'm enjoying such company?"
Azrael scoffs, "Yeah, we're having a grand old time, sir." He turns to Atra and asks, "Are ya, bud?"
Atra shrugs and waves noncommittally, "Of course!"
Azrael grins, "See? We're great!" Then she turns back towards their newest victim and asks, "Sir, did ya' want to talk a bit more?"
The guy snorts and sits across from them. "About what?"
Azrael shrugs, leaning against the bench behind her chair. "How you feel about the city."
The stranger tilts his head. "Why the hell does that matter?"
"Uh..." Atra glances back and forth between the two strangers. "...What's your name?"
"None of your fucking business, kid."
Atra scowls at him, offended. "Excuse me?!"
Azrael slaps him on the back of the head. "Don't antagonize him, Atra."
"Why not?"
Azrael rolls her eyes. "Because I asked."
"Oh."
Her eyes back on the man, Azrael continues, "Listen, Sir-"
"Call me Sheol."
Azrael smirks and crosses her arms over her chest. She leans back in the booth, "Alright, Sheol."
But before she can say anything more, Atra interrupts, "Wait! You're Sheol? As in Sheol Osorio?"
"Shut up!" Azrael slaps him on the wrist then whispers, "Let me handle this."
"I suppose that's me," Sheol takes off his glasses and tosses them aside carelessly on the table. There's a long pause. The man keeps staring at Azrael.
Finally, he asks, "Who exactly are you?"
Azrael smiles and shrugs, "You haven't heard?"
"Haven't heard what?"
"About the doctor on the street who kills people? About how she's a crazy killer but still makes it look like an accident? And her really cool younger friend with the same last name that followers her around, huh?" Atra frowns, confused.
Azrael just stares at him expectantly. Sheol looks over to Azrael as well, who gives her a look of disbelief, "Seriously? You haven't heard?"
The man leans back, "Honestly, I just can't say I care."He folds his arms across the table and raises his eyebrows, clearly expecting Azrael to explain everything to him.
Azrael sighs. "You're done then, aren't you?" She grabs her things off the booth seat and stands. She walks over and slaps Atra lightly on the shoulder, grinning.
"Are you going to do the thing?" He beams at her.
She nods and then digs in her bag to find a revolver, "Of course!"
She pulls it out, cocking it casually. "Now, do I look familiar to you, Sheol?"
For a few moments, the man just blinks at Azrael and says nothing. However, when he does speak, he asks rather slowly and carefully, "Is that loaded?"
Atra stares at the weapon, too, "Yeah! It's loaded! See, it's all loaded!"
With a nod and an uncertain expression, the man finally replies with, "That's great. But uh... can you put it away now?"
Azrael looks taken aback. Her brows knit together, "Huh? Why?"
"Look, just... put it away, okay? Just put the gun away, please. I promise... the arson and all of that shit wasn't my fault."
At just laughs at that, "Well then, who's fault was it?"
Azrael's gaze drops to the floor, silent for a moment.
"It was his, obviously!" Atra adds, pointing at Sheol accusingly.
Sheol glares at him and yells, "Oi! Don't point a finger at me!"
"She's pointing a gun at you, actually." Atra scoffs.
Azrael narrows her eyes and sighs deeply, "Listen, Sheol. I hate to do this to you because this evening has been an absolute delight, but actually... I don't hate this."
Atra's eyes widen, "Shoot him! Shoot him!"He grabs Azrael's arm excitedly.
The guy stares at him, confused. "What?"
"Just do it already!" he says excitedly and shoves Azrael slightly. "Do the deed!"
Before Sheol can make a run for it, Azrael presses down against her trigger, a bullet flying right in between his eyes. To Atra, it's glorious. All the blood splattered against the wall, staining the wood. Sheol goes stiff at once and falls onto the ground with a loud thud.
"Holy shit!" Azrael exclaims quietly in surprise and quickly stands, stepping around the body and rushing back over to Atra, kneeling by his side.
"Holy fucking shit." Atra repeats, awed, "He's literally dead!"
Azrael shakes her head, wide-eyed and shocked, "Yeah. I shot him!" She gets up and begins examining the bloody body next to her friend.
Atra follows suit and joins Azrael in inspecting the body while saying excitedly, "So badass! So amazing! Do it again! Again!"
Azrael chuckles a little, shaking her head.
"Come on!" Atra insists. "Or we can find someone else on your list, and I can kill them?"
Azrael frowns, trying to hide the smile that threatens to appear, but still manages to hold back a laugh. She shakes her head and pushes Atra off a little, laughing a little more, "Stop!"
Atra smiles, "Come on." He grabs Azrael, "You should know by now that I'm deadly serious when it comes to killing."
"I know, and I'm deadly serious when I say no killing." She shakes her head and sighs, pushing Atra away gently, "No killing, okay?" She reaches into her purse and pulls out a pack of cigarettes, holding it out towards Atra, offering one. "Want one?"
"Sure!" Atra takes one and lights it. After taking a puff of it, he hands the cigarette over to Azrael and asks, "Do you think somebody is gonna come after us?"
She shakes her head, "No, I doubt anyone will."
"Why not?"
"You and I, little friend. We're death itself, okay?" She smiles and blows smoke into the air between the both of them, inhaling heavily, "Nobody can stop me. I mean, Nobody has for years, and that means they can't stop you either. Right?"
Atra grins and takes another puff of his cigarette. Then he looks at her and replies softly, "Right. Nobody's ever stopped you yet." He looks back towards the body of the man on the floor, wishing he could've been the one to cause his death.
He doesn't say anything about it, though. He just sits in silence, watching her smoke his cigarette. She finally finishes the cigarette and puts it out in an ashtray nearby. They sit there in silence for quite a while and watch the scenery pass by outside through the glass window. Finally, Azrael speaks, breaking the quiet.
"Hey."
Atra hums in response.
"Thanks, Atra. I enjoy your company a lot. Okay?" Azrael turns towards him and gives him a reassuring smile, "Seriously. I'd be really lonely without 'ya."
Atra returns the grin and takes a drag from his cigarette, blowing smoke up towards the ceiling, then says, "Same here."
Life's been complicated with Oael dead, even if Atra would never admit it. He'll never recognize how much he's changed and how badly he wants revenge. Besides, emotions are no fun, and he's young and deserves joy.
It's not his fault darkness is so fun. But Atra doesn't know he's soon to give in.
Crazy=Genius - Panic! At The Disco
The penultimate set of introductions featuring Hades, Aeolus, and Atra! They were a blast to write and I'd love to hear your thoughts before we meet the last Tributes later this week!