Free fall is honestly kind of… freeing, for lack of a better word. He's not sure if this is normal, as he doesn't feel even the wind scraping against him, but the weird ladies assured him he'd most likely survive.
Then again he's not really the sort to trust anyone, but they managed to get him over three hundred feet in the air. So who knows.
The people rapidly come into focus, and he's pissed he doesn't have his glasses. Near and far sightedness together are an annoying thing.
Maybe he should be screaming? They might end up making some local urban legend about the screaming man of the sky. That'd be funny. Also kind of morbid. But mostly funny.
Welp. Fuck it. He's probably dead anyway, so getting a local myth will at least be neat.
Inhaling, he feels his chest expand. Holding the breath in his chest, he waits for the right moment. People are going about their day, milling around. The still silence of a market is rare, but it happens every day at… THERE!
"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH, SOMEBODY FUCKING CATCH ME!"
A good chunk of the heads present snap up, looking up at the screaming idiot. Is he an attention whore? Maybe a bit, but compared to a few "Heroes" from old myth he's not that bad.
Wait… are these people wearing toga unironically? Did they drop him over a nudist colony?
He's still screaming on the outside, but the fear just isn't in it so it sounds more like he's just yelling aggressively. The people's reaction on the other hand is priceless, running around like headless chickens.
He's maybe a hundred feet from the ground when he sees a large bearded man running towards where he'll be falling, running up a building and clearing the gap despite wearing bronze armour. Is he in a village of greek weebs?
The fact the man jumps what he estimates to be thirty feet in the air to catch him, then sticks the landing without jostling him, is impressive.
His face probably shows just how bewildered he is, cause what the fuck is happening?
Welp. "Uh… thanks for the save? Who're you anyway, and where am I?"
The large… VERY large man snorts, an easy grin on his face. "You drop into my city unannounced, and don't know who I am? Truly you must be a sign from the gods my friend. I am Aegeus! King of Athens, the greatest city of Greece, now playing host to you!"
Wait, he's actually in Greece? But he doesn't speak a lick of greek! And isn't Aegeus the name of an ancient greek king too?
"Aegeus the first or second?" His question is blurted out without thinking, but the large man takes it in stride, his bearded face widening with an even wider grin.
"The first, my friend. My son Theseus has not had a child yet, but I am hopeful that he will within the next few years. I am excited to be a grandfather!"
The man places him on the ground, carefully as if he might break. His first step is unsteady, but slowly he gets his footing back. O-kay.
There's a weird oily taste to the air, but otherwise it's actually really incredible air. The freshness can practically be tasted, as if he were next to a forest. It's kind of a heady feeling, and he can feel a small smile grow on his face.
"Ah, the smile of a man who has survived death, and smelled fresh air. I know that look well, I've seen it on a few of my soldiers. Come, we shall go to my home and you may regale me with your tale."
The bear of a man holds his hand to the side, the grin on his face curved in a way that would look predatory on anyone else. He doesn't trust easily, but he does owe this man for saving him. So he follows.
The walk through the city is incredible. So many people walk up to speak with Aegeus, a smile on their face. He gets a stink eye from a few people, but the rest are content to ignore him.
By the tenth visitor, he finally plucks up the nerve to speak. "Your people are very friendly Aegeus. You must be a good king to foster such relations."
The man, currently shaking hands with another person, nods his head. "I do as any king should. My best. It is my duty to care for these people as I do my own family, and so I shall. That they all appreciate that, and let it be known, is just an added perk of my duty."
The good king huh? That's good at least.
"Meta! Theseus! Come, meet our air bound guest! His name is Χέιντεν!" Aegeus takes a delight in making him interact with people, picking up on his social issues and finding them humourous. Still, the names are starting to paint a picture he doesn't like.
He's either getting gas-lit, or he might actually be in ancient Greece. Not to mention that whenever he says his name it either comes out in actual greek, or in an english bastardisation based on the sound. Chéinten doesn't sound too much better, but at least he can say it.
Two people are walking towards the both of them, a woman he's assuming is Aegeus' wife, and a surprisingly scrawny kid. This is the son of the bear man next to him?
And just like Aegeus, neither of them know a sense of personal space. Theseus is excited, blabbing about something close to his face, while Meta is running her hands over his clothes. Considering the toga, she's probably curious about the stitching method.
"So your name is Χέιντεν? That's a surprisingly plain name, there doesn't seem to be any meaning behind it at all. Why is that? Were you not blessed by any of the gods when you were born? I was blessed by Poseidon but my name doesn't mean much either! Oh! Maybe we-."
If he moves his head back any further he's going to dislocate his neck. Aegeus, likely feeling that Theseus isn't about to stop, finally steps in. "Alright, alright. I believe you have already talked our guest' ear off, Theseus. Meta, please stop fondling the boy, he's embarrassed enough as it is."
As the woman was running her hands down his legs, the call to stop is appreciated. The pout that the woman wears is a surprise, but he's not about to comment on it. Theseus looks slightly dejected, but quickly notices his discomfort, backing away a few steps.
He lights up when an appreciative nod is sent his way, like he was just given a million bucks. Is this kid touch starved or something?
And he is a kid. At the oldest he looks like he's maybe fifteen. And that's a pretty hard maybe. His arms are kind of stringy, his body just a touch too lanky to call "adult".
Aegeus either sees something on his face, or just wants to brag about his son, pulling the both of them over to an ornate chair in the center of the room. He's assuming it's the throne.
"My son Theseus may look small and reedy, but he is a strong fighter, and I am proud to call him a good man. Already I hear 'Father, when can I become a great hero', wanting to emulate his cousin, Herakles." The man's pride couldn't leak into his voice further, and from the embarrassed look that Theseus has, he likely does this often.
Still. "You're very proud of your son, Aegeus. I'm sure he'll do his best to make you proud."
The statement is met by Theseus, grinning and nodding his head. "Of course! I'll be one of the greatest heroes to ever live, just you wait father!"
Aegeus smiles indulgently, completely believing his son. "I know you will Theseus. Don't let this business with Minos dampen your mood, you're definitely going to be one of the greatest. I just know it."
Damn, the support of a proud father.
Aegeus' arm doesn't move from his shoulder, the larger man's hand practically dwarfing his neck line. What the hell does this guy eat, ground beef and roids? But the man pulls him closer, reaching for something.
"Χέιντεν, I understand you are not a member of my city, and I am sure you will leave once you get your bearings, but I want to present you with a gift. In recompense for allowing this man to laugh at your experiences, and to let me feel like a young buck when I jumped to catch you."
The ornate scabbard he brings up is thicker than three of Aegeus' sausage fingers, a very wide yet short blade. Like a knife that's wider than longer. The man stares at him expectantly, holding the blade for him to take.
Well… In for a penny. Taking hold of the handle of the blade, he pulls it back, finding the ease that it slides out of the scabbard a surprise. The blade itself is nothing special. It isn't gem encrusted, or made of gold painted metal. It's just a normal bronze knife. A very big knife, kind of like a machete. Two and a half feet long, and the blade is four and a half inches wide.
"This is a really, REALLY big knife. It reminds me of home. Except the knives there weren't as wide, just slightly longer."
Aegeus laughs again, but he's not too focused on that. The knife feels right in his hand, like an extension of his fingers rather than a heavy weight he has to carry. It's odd, but nice. Turning back to the man, he's handed the scabbard and quickly sheathes it. Best not to swing it around near royalty, or any nearby guard might dogpile him.
He holds the scabbard in his hand, not strapping it to his body. Mostly cause he's not sure if it'd just cause his pants to fall down. He might be wearing shorts underneath, but that's still embarrassing.
Meanwhile, Aegeus voices out something, calling for a man named Atticus. Looking over, Theseus has a smile on his face, and even Meta has cracked a grin.
"Is uh… Is there something I should know about Atticus?"
The glances between the trio in front of him don't fill him with confidence.
Aegeus is the first to speak, although Theseus looks like he wants to as well. "Well, Atticus is one of my most trusted magicians! He can look you over after your impromptu skydive."
His eyebrows furrow, thinking for a moment. "Wait, when you say magician do you mean a medicine man or do you mean a guy that can use magic? And what kind of magic, that weird slight of hand stuff, or actual magic?"
The end of his tone is disbelieving, but the smile on Aegeus' face doesn't go anywhere. If anything, it grows larger, and a sense of schadenfreude enters it.
He doesn't get the joke.
"You'll understand when Atticus gets here friend. Who knows, maybe you two will hit it off and become the best of friends!" The end of his tone is definitely teasing, and Chéinten, he's still not used to that name being what he thinks of in his head, finds that he's becoming a bit more apprehensive.
"Aegeus, can you give me a straight answer. What am I missing when you talk about Atticus?"
Aegeus huffs a laugh, and he catches Theseus and Meta snickering, sneaking a glance to the left corridor. Looking over, he sees an incredibly flamboyant man walking in, feathers behind his toga and a glass of wine in hand.
He also looks sauced out of his gourd.
"To answer your question my friend, Atticus is a magic user, and also a priest of Dionysus. I'm sure you'll take each other like a fish to water!"
Take each… wait. "Don't you mean take 'TO'!?"
"I didn't stutter, friend. But I'm sure he'll respect your wishes if you aren't interested. The real reason we've called him here is to make sure your body is properly acclimated from falling so high, as I said before."
Atticus steps deep into his personal space once Aegeus finishes speaking, a wide grin on his face and the stink of wine all over him. Chéinten takes a step back, nose wrinkled in disgust at the smell of alcohol. The pout he receives makes his eye twitch, not helped by Theseus and Meta practically falling over with laughter.
"Well, Mister mystery man, that's hardly the reaction that I was expecting, what with your fancy clothes. Is this silk? Hmm, Nah can't be. Feels too gritty for silk. Anyway, I'm Atticus, your friendly neighbourhood priest and practicing magician. How will I be serving you today?"
The question seems innocuous enough, but the wink he receives really doesn't help. Taking another step back, he sighs. "Aegeus believes I might suffer from something after the changes in pressure. I feel fine but I don't actually know if I am fine. Apparently you might have a way to check that for me?"
"I'd do more than check you out given half the chance, but alright." The man holds a hand up, strange blue lines running down his arm and into the stick he's holding. O-kay, maybe this is actual magic then?
A pulse rings out, and the same strange oily feeling from the air washes over him. It's a clammy feeling, leaving him uncomfortable in a different way. As if the oily feeling is sticking to him, getting stuck in his teeth.
Then again, that might just be the smell of wine. God that must be strong, considering how potent it smells.
Slowly, the oily feeling recedes, and Atticus begins to frown. "Well that can't be right. If what I'm seeing is correct, you should be dead from over exposure to prana. But considering you're currently uh, y'know, 'not' dying of over bloat or exploding all over King Aegeus' throne room, I dunno what to tell ya."
The flirty overtone is gone at least. Still that doesn't sound good. "Have you got a way to rectify the over exposure? I'd rather not drop dead."
Nodding his head a couple of times, Atticus stares at his fingernails. "Oh yeah sure I got a way. You'd have to take up learning magic, so that you can let out the excess. I've got a couple exercises I could help you through too, no flirting involved either."
Huh. That doesn't sound too bad.
[End.]