~ Trials of The Bonded 1 ~
By: Anime Redneck
11-2-03
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Disclaimer: I don't own the Guys! I don't own Splashdown's "Karma Slave" from Titan A.E. either! heh I do own the plot though. ::grin::
'
//Memories\Dreams//
'
~^.^~ * ~^.^~
I. Wars and Memories
~^.^~ * ~^.^~
.
//Looking around, destruction met his gaze head on. Everywhere, people littered the ground dead, or dying, or fighting - all in some state of movement or lifelessness. Fire burned in strategic places, others caught where flaming arrows landed sending whatever was caught in their path into orange-red dancing flames.
It was wasteful, didn't please the onlooker at all. What other creatures of The One's making could bring such destruction, all in the name of Right?
Humans. Petty beings caring only for they're own, not of what they may harm in trying to achieve what they want. They did not care of the saplings and elder trees that loose their life from poorly aimed arrows, or the hacking of farmers' tools making way for new houses and croplands. They cared not that they go against family in these useless battles, killing them...
Did so much mean so little to them? Were not family by blood supposed to mean the most to one person? To have people that cared and loved them, would look out for them? Or was their want to expand their holdings so great their family did not matter more then a lone rice grain lying on the ground, being trampled upon?
'Animals took better care of their own then the people of this era,' the being watching the running Humans sighed, the want to shake his head great, but ignored.
He had been summoned here merely to watch, not interfere or judge. No one could help what the Humans decided to do; it was their world in which they trampled upon and their forests' they destroyed in light of making larger lands for their holdings. It would be their problem, when natural resources ran low, when cover became little because they decided to cut them down instead of trying to build around them, to preserve their beauty and place in life.
He did not pity them when Gaia decided she had had enough of their infernal bumbling and decided it was time to 'even the score' with them.
Smirking, silky locks flew in the wind as the battle watcher shook his head in light to clear the thoughts away. It was no the time nor the place to have such things in his mind. It was not even in his nature to think of such opinions... perhaps it was his watching over the Human's battle that had him acting... strange, today. He did not know, nor did he truly care; it was a moment that, like all others, would pass once he left this blood stench, war cry filled field.
It was his duty, his 'job' (to put it loosely) to watch over the Humans' battles, their wars - only the largest fights were his to over see. That was his trick in life, to watch others fight. Others whom at times, wished and prayed for him to bless such events, in hopes that their side would win. And when such a prayer for blessing has been called, and they fight, then loose, it is He that they curse, dragging his name in the preverbal mud because they lost... When they themselves do not know if he had even blessed the battle, and was it their strength that lacked, causing them to loose in the first place.
In the beginning, he had enjoyed watching the Humans fight. It was humorous to hear their battle cries, to see them pumping their legs for all they possess for speed to hurry and kill those that opposed them. To watch as one by one, they fell to the others more skilled blade. Watch as the blood poured from their bodies, sometimes in his name. It was morbid; but it was entertainment with not a little bit of honor and pride mixed into it.
In the beginning it fascinated him to learn that such small beings, these Humans, had cherished such things as family, their home and lands, to such extents that they would defend them to the death. It was an honorable death they met in the end, their pride for their cherished lands eventually leading them to an honored death. Morbid but fascinating.
Who would have believed that there were those who felt things like he, on the World? People whom stood up for what they thought was right (and that was)? People whom did good, but were forced into fighting to keep what was theirs from others with lesser then known good 'deeds' done, wanting to take it away?
The good, the just - those were the peoples battles he took time from his days to bless. To give them some hope that what they were fighting for was not in vain! And even still, with his blessing intact, granted and given, they would fall. Their strength not having been enough to keep fighting, to keep hoping... It was distressing, the being decided, that such honorable people fell to the blades of dogs.
Watching as a lone soldier took pause in the lack of attending fighters to take after him, look to the sky, the short, dark haired figure felt a shaking of his chest and noted with a start that he was laughing lightly at the poor man.
He could not help it though. There was a legend, a myth among these Humans that when the sky or sun turned red as blood, that they held His blessings to fight. It was nothing but a wild horse some sad mortal hoped to tame and had not a lick of sense to know it wouldn't happen. It was false. Not true. He could not control the sky, one of Gaia's own, to his likings. If he could, he surly would not turn it red! Mayhap a nice lilac in color? There were many among his kind that had a liking of such color.
Tiring of standing on the sidelines watching, not being able to draw his own sword and join in cutting down a few numb Humans for practice, the dark fellow instead choose to walk among the fighting class. They could not see him, not as he was now. For any that might be sensitive to unworldly things, all they may feel would be a passing wind, cooler then that of the warm day heat.
Sighing at another low, badly placed block that achieved a plump man a deep scaring cut long his arm; his thoughts wondered back to where they should not go while over seeing a battle.
In the beginning he drew some enjoyment from watching Humans fight each other. It was interesting to walk among them unseen and listen to their conversations, learning what this battle/war was about, why they felt so strongly in fighting to protect whatever it was. Sometimes, he would agree silently, or with some slight show of magick (what Humans might call his power, his essence) he would disagree. When he returned home to tell of his 'adventure' of the Humans' fight, he gained some sort of... pleasure? excitement? in recounting sword strike for sword strike what had happened below, whom he thought was right, whom should not have been fighting at all... and to whom he would have blessed had they prayed to him to do so.
Now however, it wrenched something in the vicinity of his stomach to watch Humans fight. To see with his own eyes that they have not, in any way, learned from past fights, battles and wars... Had not learned from the destruction caused by it that what they fought over, for, was not worth damaging more of Gaia's home that she so gracefully allowed them to live on.
Hell hath no fury like a World scorned.
And as he stood there watching, Ares, the God of War, held no small speck of pity for what Gaia would do to them when she had had enough this time around. To his thinking, she was much too lenient with these Humans. They were not but a disease to her beauty. But it was not for him to judge - only watch... A cage, which was sorely getting harder to keep within.
A movement from the corner of dark shinning eyes captured his attention. It was not how the other man looked, was dressed, or acted... more of the way he danced about the Human fighters - no one seemed to notice him.
It would not take a Fairy Scholar to tell him that this... this male being, was like he - a God. For surly if he were not, then be it he that possessed such magick to bewitch the eyes of hundreds to dance around them, taunting them, teasing them, all while being unnoticed.
To all but him.
"You, you and YOU need to go back to training!" the younger looking male teased flickering out a hand to lift and let hair fall, seeming as if it were nothing then a passing odd wind. "You shouldn't be on the field at all! What in Hades name kind of thrust do you call that!? Child starter one? Jezus man! Bloody learn to fight if your intent on dying!"
Dark Lady did these fools not know one spitting lick of fighting?! It was sadly pathetic to watch this massive, bloated body of Humans run around like chickens with their heads chopped by the butcher off, trying to basically stab the other, like they were wielding polls instead of broad swords. It put to shame the Masters who created those finely crafted swords in retarded hands.
Yes. This was defiantly the place to be for entertainment he sot for. It was becoming dreadfully boring at home. One could only stand hovering servants and whining fools for so long before the need to reach out and take their life became too great, forcing yourself to leave before you did something your Uncle would frown down upon.
"DUCK!" the dark haired man heard the other yell before a rough sigh met his ears with a laughing, "Little bit late on that one son."
It was then, that he caught sight of a brown swaying rope? braid? behind his unseen companion - and laughed, something he had not even so much as tried to do in decades. It was also the same time he inadvertently caught the new man's attention. Without knowing it, he held his breath seeming to wait, for something...
Gah! Bunch of Neanderthals. The understanding of why Humans kept fighting over the simplest of things (simple matters to him) kept slipping past his hands and into the sands he now walked upon. The sands that captured his attention with their sparkling bits, then the spots which grew in mass with every new sword swing... the spots staining the Earth crimson.
Having decided he had enough of their screaming in his ears, making them twitch from the loudness, and annoyance - couldn't Human's fight without yelling? - the young man started to turn away from it all, to go back to his 'tent' and rest a while, mayhap find a new scroll to read. There were so many things he could be doing instead of roaming a battlefield for no more reason then: his being told him to. Some inexplicable tugging in his mind, his body, whispered he needed to be there - to watch the idiots killing one another.
He'd be the first to admit getting a morbid sense of pleasure in watching people who didn't have enough sense not to fight over something petty, killing each other. The way their bodies moved, fluid and untrained, the swords jerking from one person to another. It was sick, any being would see it as such, but, given his place in life, it was something to be looked upon with curious joy... something that sent a tingling racing down his spine to watch the looks on men's faces before they died... A game of figuring out what their last thoughts were...
It was intriguing... it was also growing old.
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~ ^ ~ ^ ~ ^ ~ ^ ~
Today I'll be spinning on a Wheel
I'm a slave to a Wheel
And there isn't any stopping
~ v ~ v ~ v ~ v ~ v ~
'
He tired of being alone to watch such happenings. Tired of being the one to shuffle the slow moving souls to their rightful place. To any place! He needed something to change in his life, and he'd like if it happened within this mortal bodies lifetime! Someone other then his Uncle must have been listening to his mental rantings, the youth decided as his head snapped around to glare at the one able to hear him, when none should have, and stopped dead, sucking in a sharp breath.
Dark Lady below! Refusing to blink, afraid if he did so then the manling standing mere yards away from him would vanish, the longhaired young man brought a hand to his chest banging on it, trying to get his airflow to resume so that he may be able to process some thoughts.
Thoughts like: the man before him could see him! The man before him had chuckled at what he just shouted out, but looked as if he had something painful shoved up his rear now. The thought that the man before him was painfully gorgeous was foremost in his mind though, pushing all else behind him as he started, slowly, to walk forward, intent on meeting this being whom his senses' whispered was the same as he.
It took no time at all for Ares to begin cursing himself for slip of emotions at a time like this. He knew nothing of the other striking man. He was not going to give pause and wonder how long it took for hair like to grow out, nor how long it must have took to braid it in that shinning mass of chestnut.... Oh Bright Lady be not damned! Furiously shaking his head, ridding the confounding thoughts, his dark eyes focused on the man now not more then fifty yards away and closing fast.
His first instincts were to pull his sword and crouch into a defensive position against this seeming willowy figure approaching him - a figure who held an aura of darkness, though this did not mean he were so. His second was to turn around and march back to his holding to wait, watch and then return home... Nevertheless, out ranking all of these (added with the small tugging in the back of his mind) Ares stood his ground, keen eyes watching and waiting for whatever the other man might do.
He didn't appear any older then his mortal body; the age of Human twenty-four. His mortal shell was small, lithe, long legs and arms, strong muscle curved to show through the wind thin material covering his body. He beheld the face of an Angel, heart shaped and pale gold, eyes like large amethyst gems stared back at him curiously, framed by long silky looking bangs of sun kissed chestnut. He was a striking vision, and he both pulled at and intrigued part of him that had not been attentive in many, many millennia.
Watching as the other stopped, a foot between them, Ares gave thought to what he should do? He had never been a "people person" per his son's words. Ever since the death of his Love he had closed himself off to others but for his son and closest friends, those whom understood him best; there were very few among the Gods, Goddess and the Fay.
So there lacking, he did not know what to do in this situation. He should greet this beautiful being (his conscious would not still its tongue), but his voice would not work. His limbs worked finely, yet he knew not what to do with them. He seldom came upon Gods of whom he did not know. Yet this one, this one was a stranger to him...
Ares was rocked from his internal battle of what would be proper in greeting another when ones voice did not work, when slim baby fine fingers splayed across his cheek, startling him into taking a step back, but those soft digits followed, bravely caressing over his high cheek bones to jaw line and down to his chin before the warm hand dropped back to its owner's side, leaving a slow tingling sensation in it's wake.
Ares could only stare into wide, grinning, amethyst eyes; his own slightly enlarged in surprise. No one had dared be so informal with him before. Dared to just stretch out and touch him, all having known of his dislike of contact with others. It had no connection to his not liking people, for he cherished most of his own, even the annoying ones you could not seem to get rid of to save ones life (regardless if there were no true way to loose that life). So he stared, blinked, and stared some more - only aware that he must look something humorous.
And then the other spoke, "Greetings, I'm called Duo" his voice a rich tenor, his lips pulling into a slow smile showing off faultless white teeth, while one slim hand reached up to sweep an irate lock of hair behind his shelled ear.
Swallowing his nervousness his friends would surly laugh at, if they ever learned that The Great Ares was made nervous by a small whip of a boy... Letting his breath out in a long, slow wind, Ares cautiously held out a hand, lips curling back slightly in a strained smirk as the young man - Duo - blinked in surprise. "Heero."//
'
Jolting straight up in his makeshift cot, lungs gasping for air, sweat beading along his flushed face, dark lashes closed on a sigh. Slowly, bringing his breathing as close to normal as he could manage, his cold, weary eyes opened once more, a hand lifting to wipe sweat from his forehead. Glancing around his person, he noted the stack of hay that cushioned his bedding, the water flask and animal skinned bag in the corner of his small curved out hiding.
Another sigh escaped frowning lips. It was a dream. Had been so real, he could feel the other's fingers running along his cheek. It even tingled for the Bright Lady's sake! It was a dream. Nothing but another damn dream. Always dreams... nothing more... Always the same thing... of the past... Of his loss... How much more torturing could he endure before he broke?
Fate, he had decided, had chosen him to play her wicked games on a long while ago.
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~ ^ ~ ^ ~ ^ ~ ^ ~
What mistake(s) could I have made?
I'm a slave serving time for a life that I've forgotten.
~ v ~ v ~ v ~ v ~ v ~
'
Muscles protesting, bones as strong as granite creaking in protest of having little rest, the small compacted figure lifted him self from the fresh hay bedding. No matter which year, century, he found himself living in, he would not willingly relinquish his favored hay bedding. It was a small comforting, a reminder of more contented times when love was in his life, when he smiled and those that knew his nature, rejoiced at the seeming 'rebirth' of his soul.
Now, standing on wobbly legs his son would surly smack him over the head for, in a small cave he found and turned into his 'home' while on Earth, the dark haired man sighed miserably.
Alone. How long had it been now, since his lover, had been taken away from him? How long since that time of his mortal bodies passing that he had not seen, nor heard word from the other? How long had be spent lonely, frown glaring days and nights searching for his love over every bit of land he could find? What was the number of years that had passed since his friends decided finding his rouge lover was their new mission in life? How long had it been since he had let himself cry frustrations away, heartbreak and loneliness on his son's shoulder?
Stop this! He did not have time to wallow in self-indulgent questions. There was yet another war he was on Earth to over see, one in which held his blessing of hope and triumph; he had no time to run through questions the same as he did for the last millennia. There would always be time in the future, had he one to look forward to, but now was not it.
Notwithstanding, try as he might, the bright light of hope that was slowly dwindling with the years flying by, still held light... still making him wish with all his will that the next fight he over saw, the next battle he would be watcher of - would grant him meeting with his Love once more.
Stretching on his toes, ignoring the fact some cracked and moaned, nearly falling over, Ares deep blue eyes narrowed in determination as he reached for his tonic and belt.
Life. He had been 'living' since near the beginning of The Great One's time. Fate would not have her devious way. She would not be taking his essence if he had a say in the matter, and he damn well did! Lady Time was kind, generous to her children in offering him all of her time that she could. However, even Lady Time could not hold off her sister Fate when the wicked woman had games planned, she could only stall her, offering the other some form of hope... Hope that may never come true if the pieces did not fall together in the correct order.
Ares was no ignorant God. He knew, from his bodies aching now and then, from the tingling in his being that Time was running out for him. The pieces to his puzzle, his game that Fate had decided none to gently to play on him, were not all collected. What were the pieces? Did never anyone so much as ask the rules to this game? He did not know, nor was the care in him to give out of, but this was one game - one war - that would not be lost. Not to him it would not.
Twisting this way and that, listening to his vertebrae popping, Ares let out a small yawn, blinking at the beautiful light filtering into his cave though the lifted material held in hand. "Bright Lady it is early..." murmuring stepping into the lights full warmth, twin pools of sea blue lightened magically warming his chilled soul.
Little and few days had he woken up and ever felt content with his lot in endless life now. He was not, content, now as it were... but for this moment, he had no qualms about what was to come. The sun's life giving light always managed to install in him a little more hope. Just the thought that today might be the day to see his lover again was more then enough to get him through it. At night, when darkness fell and filled his soul at yet another fruitless rise and set... it would leave him just a little more high then if the light had not lifted him so much more.
There was always hope, his son Eros, tried to beat into him through the hard armor known as his skin and head. Ares was inclined to believe his beautiful little boy. The saying was cliché, even among Humans, notwithstanding the truth behind it shone through. For he however, hope was like a fleeting breeze, there and gone in the next instant. A baby fine cloth whispering across his skin, teasing him, exciting him... only to be pulled away from him letting in the coldness of reality that, he may never be happy again.
Hope was a fickle thing.
"Rise and shine o' father of mine!"
Eyes pointed on the ground, contemplating the growth of a single Bird of Paradise in such a dry near desert spot such as this, when a gravelly smooth, low-throated voice interrupted his ponderings. Thus it was with mild amusement in which the God of War watched the milling ants, beetles and crickets stop their journeys, bodies giving a shake (an insect shudder perhaps?) and dart off at high speeds for the nearest covering; oddly all closest to him ran into his cave.
Head lifting, eyes glittering oddly in the mornings light, a bright sparkle lighting them; Ares spoke, "Dear Probos" his voice low, almost curiously humored, "must you persist in using that tone with me?"
Smirking at getting such a favorable reaction from the recently taciturn man, Probos nodded, "Indeed I do m'Lord."
"Indeed?" came the quarry. "You scared off my watchings."
"I do beseech you m'Lord, to forgive this lowly being" giving small bow Probos' beady upturned blue-gray eyes twinkled, "Yet I had heard whispering amongst them they did not kindly like you anyway."
Shaking his head minutely, secretly throwing a questioning glance into his earthly 'home' to the newly entered tenants, Ares faced his son. Had he the inclination to laugh, he would have done so. Probos and Eros seemed to have inherited their mother's sense of humor, without fail tried to ensnarl him with it, getting a reaction from him; it seemed to be their happy, sometimes particular, lot in life. And for this reason among other if he was not in a "mood", he fought tooth and sword to not give a reaction.
Instead he shook his head once more, watching as his son straightened up, grinning at him. Ares smirked back. "That may be but if the skies were green and grass blue, I should call you not but a jesters ass."
Brows furrowing in thought, Probos' small yet strong arms folded pondering this insightful sentence. It took all but a few small minutes to realize his father had just insulted his intelligence. "Saa... In case being a jester's ass could out wit the Courts own with tongue of steel! And be faster still then mule or Mercury's wings!" A somewhat cheeky grin, if not a bit frightening as well to someone other then Ares, appeared. "Even still as an ass might be, you could not be rid of me!"
Sigh. Truth was enough in there standing. He was able in no way or form to be rid of Probos, even with as much an ass he could be of times. In his left hand his Lover would surly be disappointed in him; in the right, his other would strike him down, again and again. Then in heart, he would not, for any reason, think of being rid of the young man before him.
Turning from inspecting the brush nearby, Ares let his startling sharp eyes gaze at his first son. Probos was tall, a mere inch shorter then his sire. Hair as pale of white oval hung like swept silk to mid back, gracing sloping shoulders, which tapered off into short thin arms darted here and there by muscles which belied his true strength. His chest, broad and strong flowed into a slim waist down to longer legs.
Ares would be first to admit that his First was an anomalous sight to see. For how could one such as he come from a coupling of people so alike? Ares himself did not know the answer to this question; he did not waste time thinking on it, only loving and appreciating the precious gift bestowed upon him. Even if his First had a wickedly evil liking in causing terror among the masses - he was after all, his son.
Chuckling lowly so his son would not hear, the dark headed God settled on another smirk before beckoning his offspring to follow him. "Come Probos" command back in place, "We must make our rounds before the start."
"Aye m'Lord" it never seized to make his sire's ire tickle at his own son calling him 'm'lord', but Probos was always one to dance outside of Death's arms, "As ye so wish it, it shall be!"
With that, father and son, Gods of their own places, left to inspect the battlefield to see how such a mass scale war was proceeding, to see which side might be the victor, to see if his blessed needed more spirits... To have something to keep busy by.
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~oOo~ * ~oOo~ * ~oOo~ * ~oOo~
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Ha! The first chapter out! ::grins:: Whatcha think? I'm tryin' to keep mystery in it. Ane-chan assures she likes the mystery of it, so I guess I'm achiving that part, ne? ^___^ Welps, do please let me know whatcha think! I''ll work on planning the next chapter more so it can be goten out sooner. 'Til then, if your reading anything else of mine, keep your eyes open! ~_^ Arigatou!!
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Keep it kickin'! ~ Anime Redneck
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By: Anime Redneck
11-2-03
.
Disclaimer: I don't own the Guys! I don't own Splashdown's "Karma Slave" from Titan A.E. either! heh I do own the plot though. ::grin::
'
//Memories\Dreams//
'
~^.^~ * ~^.^~
I. Wars and Memories
~^.^~ * ~^.^~
.
//Looking around, destruction met his gaze head on. Everywhere, people littered the ground dead, or dying, or fighting - all in some state of movement or lifelessness. Fire burned in strategic places, others caught where flaming arrows landed sending whatever was caught in their path into orange-red dancing flames.
It was wasteful, didn't please the onlooker at all. What other creatures of The One's making could bring such destruction, all in the name of Right?
Humans. Petty beings caring only for they're own, not of what they may harm in trying to achieve what they want. They did not care of the saplings and elder trees that loose their life from poorly aimed arrows, or the hacking of farmers' tools making way for new houses and croplands. They cared not that they go against family in these useless battles, killing them...
Did so much mean so little to them? Were not family by blood supposed to mean the most to one person? To have people that cared and loved them, would look out for them? Or was their want to expand their holdings so great their family did not matter more then a lone rice grain lying on the ground, being trampled upon?
'Animals took better care of their own then the people of this era,' the being watching the running Humans sighed, the want to shake his head great, but ignored.
He had been summoned here merely to watch, not interfere or judge. No one could help what the Humans decided to do; it was their world in which they trampled upon and their forests' they destroyed in light of making larger lands for their holdings. It would be their problem, when natural resources ran low, when cover became little because they decided to cut them down instead of trying to build around them, to preserve their beauty and place in life.
He did not pity them when Gaia decided she had had enough of their infernal bumbling and decided it was time to 'even the score' with them.
Smirking, silky locks flew in the wind as the battle watcher shook his head in light to clear the thoughts away. It was no the time nor the place to have such things in his mind. It was not even in his nature to think of such opinions... perhaps it was his watching over the Human's battle that had him acting... strange, today. He did not know, nor did he truly care; it was a moment that, like all others, would pass once he left this blood stench, war cry filled field.
It was his duty, his 'job' (to put it loosely) to watch over the Humans' battles, their wars - only the largest fights were his to over see. That was his trick in life, to watch others fight. Others whom at times, wished and prayed for him to bless such events, in hopes that their side would win. And when such a prayer for blessing has been called, and they fight, then loose, it is He that they curse, dragging his name in the preverbal mud because they lost... When they themselves do not know if he had even blessed the battle, and was it their strength that lacked, causing them to loose in the first place.
In the beginning, he had enjoyed watching the Humans fight. It was humorous to hear their battle cries, to see them pumping their legs for all they possess for speed to hurry and kill those that opposed them. To watch as one by one, they fell to the others more skilled blade. Watch as the blood poured from their bodies, sometimes in his name. It was morbid; but it was entertainment with not a little bit of honor and pride mixed into it.
In the beginning it fascinated him to learn that such small beings, these Humans, had cherished such things as family, their home and lands, to such extents that they would defend them to the death. It was an honorable death they met in the end, their pride for their cherished lands eventually leading them to an honored death. Morbid but fascinating.
Who would have believed that there were those who felt things like he, on the World? People whom stood up for what they thought was right (and that was)? People whom did good, but were forced into fighting to keep what was theirs from others with lesser then known good 'deeds' done, wanting to take it away?
The good, the just - those were the peoples battles he took time from his days to bless. To give them some hope that what they were fighting for was not in vain! And even still, with his blessing intact, granted and given, they would fall. Their strength not having been enough to keep fighting, to keep hoping... It was distressing, the being decided, that such honorable people fell to the blades of dogs.
Watching as a lone soldier took pause in the lack of attending fighters to take after him, look to the sky, the short, dark haired figure felt a shaking of his chest and noted with a start that he was laughing lightly at the poor man.
He could not help it though. There was a legend, a myth among these Humans that when the sky or sun turned red as blood, that they held His blessings to fight. It was nothing but a wild horse some sad mortal hoped to tame and had not a lick of sense to know it wouldn't happen. It was false. Not true. He could not control the sky, one of Gaia's own, to his likings. If he could, he surly would not turn it red! Mayhap a nice lilac in color? There were many among his kind that had a liking of such color.
Tiring of standing on the sidelines watching, not being able to draw his own sword and join in cutting down a few numb Humans for practice, the dark fellow instead choose to walk among the fighting class. They could not see him, not as he was now. For any that might be sensitive to unworldly things, all they may feel would be a passing wind, cooler then that of the warm day heat.
Sighing at another low, badly placed block that achieved a plump man a deep scaring cut long his arm; his thoughts wondered back to where they should not go while over seeing a battle.
In the beginning he drew some enjoyment from watching Humans fight each other. It was interesting to walk among them unseen and listen to their conversations, learning what this battle/war was about, why they felt so strongly in fighting to protect whatever it was. Sometimes, he would agree silently, or with some slight show of magick (what Humans might call his power, his essence) he would disagree. When he returned home to tell of his 'adventure' of the Humans' fight, he gained some sort of... pleasure? excitement? in recounting sword strike for sword strike what had happened below, whom he thought was right, whom should not have been fighting at all... and to whom he would have blessed had they prayed to him to do so.
Now however, it wrenched something in the vicinity of his stomach to watch Humans fight. To see with his own eyes that they have not, in any way, learned from past fights, battles and wars... Had not learned from the destruction caused by it that what they fought over, for, was not worth damaging more of Gaia's home that she so gracefully allowed them to live on.
Hell hath no fury like a World scorned.
And as he stood there watching, Ares, the God of War, held no small speck of pity for what Gaia would do to them when she had had enough this time around. To his thinking, she was much too lenient with these Humans. They were not but a disease to her beauty. But it was not for him to judge - only watch... A cage, which was sorely getting harder to keep within.
A movement from the corner of dark shinning eyes captured his attention. It was not how the other man looked, was dressed, or acted... more of the way he danced about the Human fighters - no one seemed to notice him.
It would not take a Fairy Scholar to tell him that this... this male being, was like he - a God. For surly if he were not, then be it he that possessed such magick to bewitch the eyes of hundreds to dance around them, taunting them, teasing them, all while being unnoticed.
To all but him.
"You, you and YOU need to go back to training!" the younger looking male teased flickering out a hand to lift and let hair fall, seeming as if it were nothing then a passing odd wind. "You shouldn't be on the field at all! What in Hades name kind of thrust do you call that!? Child starter one? Jezus man! Bloody learn to fight if your intent on dying!"
Dark Lady did these fools not know one spitting lick of fighting?! It was sadly pathetic to watch this massive, bloated body of Humans run around like chickens with their heads chopped by the butcher off, trying to basically stab the other, like they were wielding polls instead of broad swords. It put to shame the Masters who created those finely crafted swords in retarded hands.
Yes. This was defiantly the place to be for entertainment he sot for. It was becoming dreadfully boring at home. One could only stand hovering servants and whining fools for so long before the need to reach out and take their life became too great, forcing yourself to leave before you did something your Uncle would frown down upon.
"DUCK!" the dark haired man heard the other yell before a rough sigh met his ears with a laughing, "Little bit late on that one son."
It was then, that he caught sight of a brown swaying rope? braid? behind his unseen companion - and laughed, something he had not even so much as tried to do in decades. It was also the same time he inadvertently caught the new man's attention. Without knowing it, he held his breath seeming to wait, for something...
Gah! Bunch of Neanderthals. The understanding of why Humans kept fighting over the simplest of things (simple matters to him) kept slipping past his hands and into the sands he now walked upon. The sands that captured his attention with their sparkling bits, then the spots which grew in mass with every new sword swing... the spots staining the Earth crimson.
Having decided he had enough of their screaming in his ears, making them twitch from the loudness, and annoyance - couldn't Human's fight without yelling? - the young man started to turn away from it all, to go back to his 'tent' and rest a while, mayhap find a new scroll to read. There were so many things he could be doing instead of roaming a battlefield for no more reason then: his being told him to. Some inexplicable tugging in his mind, his body, whispered he needed to be there - to watch the idiots killing one another.
He'd be the first to admit getting a morbid sense of pleasure in watching people who didn't have enough sense not to fight over something petty, killing each other. The way their bodies moved, fluid and untrained, the swords jerking from one person to another. It was sick, any being would see it as such, but, given his place in life, it was something to be looked upon with curious joy... something that sent a tingling racing down his spine to watch the looks on men's faces before they died... A game of figuring out what their last thoughts were...
It was intriguing... it was also growing old.
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~ ^ ~ ^ ~ ^ ~ ^ ~
Today I'll be spinning on a Wheel
I'm a slave to a Wheel
And there isn't any stopping
~ v ~ v ~ v ~ v ~ v ~
'
He tired of being alone to watch such happenings. Tired of being the one to shuffle the slow moving souls to their rightful place. To any place! He needed something to change in his life, and he'd like if it happened within this mortal bodies lifetime! Someone other then his Uncle must have been listening to his mental rantings, the youth decided as his head snapped around to glare at the one able to hear him, when none should have, and stopped dead, sucking in a sharp breath.
Dark Lady below! Refusing to blink, afraid if he did so then the manling standing mere yards away from him would vanish, the longhaired young man brought a hand to his chest banging on it, trying to get his airflow to resume so that he may be able to process some thoughts.
Thoughts like: the man before him could see him! The man before him had chuckled at what he just shouted out, but looked as if he had something painful shoved up his rear now. The thought that the man before him was painfully gorgeous was foremost in his mind though, pushing all else behind him as he started, slowly, to walk forward, intent on meeting this being whom his senses' whispered was the same as he.
It took no time at all for Ares to begin cursing himself for slip of emotions at a time like this. He knew nothing of the other striking man. He was not going to give pause and wonder how long it took for hair like to grow out, nor how long it must have took to braid it in that shinning mass of chestnut.... Oh Bright Lady be not damned! Furiously shaking his head, ridding the confounding thoughts, his dark eyes focused on the man now not more then fifty yards away and closing fast.
His first instincts were to pull his sword and crouch into a defensive position against this seeming willowy figure approaching him - a figure who held an aura of darkness, though this did not mean he were so. His second was to turn around and march back to his holding to wait, watch and then return home... Nevertheless, out ranking all of these (added with the small tugging in the back of his mind) Ares stood his ground, keen eyes watching and waiting for whatever the other man might do.
He didn't appear any older then his mortal body; the age of Human twenty-four. His mortal shell was small, lithe, long legs and arms, strong muscle curved to show through the wind thin material covering his body. He beheld the face of an Angel, heart shaped and pale gold, eyes like large amethyst gems stared back at him curiously, framed by long silky looking bangs of sun kissed chestnut. He was a striking vision, and he both pulled at and intrigued part of him that had not been attentive in many, many millennia.
Watching as the other stopped, a foot between them, Ares gave thought to what he should do? He had never been a "people person" per his son's words. Ever since the death of his Love he had closed himself off to others but for his son and closest friends, those whom understood him best; there were very few among the Gods, Goddess and the Fay.
So there lacking, he did not know what to do in this situation. He should greet this beautiful being (his conscious would not still its tongue), but his voice would not work. His limbs worked finely, yet he knew not what to do with them. He seldom came upon Gods of whom he did not know. Yet this one, this one was a stranger to him...
Ares was rocked from his internal battle of what would be proper in greeting another when ones voice did not work, when slim baby fine fingers splayed across his cheek, startling him into taking a step back, but those soft digits followed, bravely caressing over his high cheek bones to jaw line and down to his chin before the warm hand dropped back to its owner's side, leaving a slow tingling sensation in it's wake.
Ares could only stare into wide, grinning, amethyst eyes; his own slightly enlarged in surprise. No one had dared be so informal with him before. Dared to just stretch out and touch him, all having known of his dislike of contact with others. It had no connection to his not liking people, for he cherished most of his own, even the annoying ones you could not seem to get rid of to save ones life (regardless if there were no true way to loose that life). So he stared, blinked, and stared some more - only aware that he must look something humorous.
And then the other spoke, "Greetings, I'm called Duo" his voice a rich tenor, his lips pulling into a slow smile showing off faultless white teeth, while one slim hand reached up to sweep an irate lock of hair behind his shelled ear.
Swallowing his nervousness his friends would surly laugh at, if they ever learned that The Great Ares was made nervous by a small whip of a boy... Letting his breath out in a long, slow wind, Ares cautiously held out a hand, lips curling back slightly in a strained smirk as the young man - Duo - blinked in surprise. "Heero."//
'
Jolting straight up in his makeshift cot, lungs gasping for air, sweat beading along his flushed face, dark lashes closed on a sigh. Slowly, bringing his breathing as close to normal as he could manage, his cold, weary eyes opened once more, a hand lifting to wipe sweat from his forehead. Glancing around his person, he noted the stack of hay that cushioned his bedding, the water flask and animal skinned bag in the corner of his small curved out hiding.
Another sigh escaped frowning lips. It was a dream. Had been so real, he could feel the other's fingers running along his cheek. It even tingled for the Bright Lady's sake! It was a dream. Nothing but another damn dream. Always dreams... nothing more... Always the same thing... of the past... Of his loss... How much more torturing could he endure before he broke?
Fate, he had decided, had chosen him to play her wicked games on a long while ago.
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~ ^ ~ ^ ~ ^ ~ ^ ~
What mistake(s) could I have made?
I'm a slave serving time for a life that I've forgotten.
~ v ~ v ~ v ~ v ~ v ~
'
Muscles protesting, bones as strong as granite creaking in protest of having little rest, the small compacted figure lifted him self from the fresh hay bedding. No matter which year, century, he found himself living in, he would not willingly relinquish his favored hay bedding. It was a small comforting, a reminder of more contented times when love was in his life, when he smiled and those that knew his nature, rejoiced at the seeming 'rebirth' of his soul.
Now, standing on wobbly legs his son would surly smack him over the head for, in a small cave he found and turned into his 'home' while on Earth, the dark haired man sighed miserably.
Alone. How long had it been now, since his lover, had been taken away from him? How long since that time of his mortal bodies passing that he had not seen, nor heard word from the other? How long had be spent lonely, frown glaring days and nights searching for his love over every bit of land he could find? What was the number of years that had passed since his friends decided finding his rouge lover was their new mission in life? How long had it been since he had let himself cry frustrations away, heartbreak and loneliness on his son's shoulder?
Stop this! He did not have time to wallow in self-indulgent questions. There was yet another war he was on Earth to over see, one in which held his blessing of hope and triumph; he had no time to run through questions the same as he did for the last millennia. There would always be time in the future, had he one to look forward to, but now was not it.
Notwithstanding, try as he might, the bright light of hope that was slowly dwindling with the years flying by, still held light... still making him wish with all his will that the next fight he over saw, the next battle he would be watcher of - would grant him meeting with his Love once more.
Stretching on his toes, ignoring the fact some cracked and moaned, nearly falling over, Ares deep blue eyes narrowed in determination as he reached for his tonic and belt.
Life. He had been 'living' since near the beginning of The Great One's time. Fate would not have her devious way. She would not be taking his essence if he had a say in the matter, and he damn well did! Lady Time was kind, generous to her children in offering him all of her time that she could. However, even Lady Time could not hold off her sister Fate when the wicked woman had games planned, she could only stall her, offering the other some form of hope... Hope that may never come true if the pieces did not fall together in the correct order.
Ares was no ignorant God. He knew, from his bodies aching now and then, from the tingling in his being that Time was running out for him. The pieces to his puzzle, his game that Fate had decided none to gently to play on him, were not all collected. What were the pieces? Did never anyone so much as ask the rules to this game? He did not know, nor was the care in him to give out of, but this was one game - one war - that would not be lost. Not to him it would not.
Twisting this way and that, listening to his vertebrae popping, Ares let out a small yawn, blinking at the beautiful light filtering into his cave though the lifted material held in hand. "Bright Lady it is early..." murmuring stepping into the lights full warmth, twin pools of sea blue lightened magically warming his chilled soul.
Little and few days had he woken up and ever felt content with his lot in endless life now. He was not, content, now as it were... but for this moment, he had no qualms about what was to come. The sun's life giving light always managed to install in him a little more hope. Just the thought that today might be the day to see his lover again was more then enough to get him through it. At night, when darkness fell and filled his soul at yet another fruitless rise and set... it would leave him just a little more high then if the light had not lifted him so much more.
There was always hope, his son Eros, tried to beat into him through the hard armor known as his skin and head. Ares was inclined to believe his beautiful little boy. The saying was cliché, even among Humans, notwithstanding the truth behind it shone through. For he however, hope was like a fleeting breeze, there and gone in the next instant. A baby fine cloth whispering across his skin, teasing him, exciting him... only to be pulled away from him letting in the coldness of reality that, he may never be happy again.
Hope was a fickle thing.
"Rise and shine o' father of mine!"
Eyes pointed on the ground, contemplating the growth of a single Bird of Paradise in such a dry near desert spot such as this, when a gravelly smooth, low-throated voice interrupted his ponderings. Thus it was with mild amusement in which the God of War watched the milling ants, beetles and crickets stop their journeys, bodies giving a shake (an insect shudder perhaps?) and dart off at high speeds for the nearest covering; oddly all closest to him ran into his cave.
Head lifting, eyes glittering oddly in the mornings light, a bright sparkle lighting them; Ares spoke, "Dear Probos" his voice low, almost curiously humored, "must you persist in using that tone with me?"
Smirking at getting such a favorable reaction from the recently taciturn man, Probos nodded, "Indeed I do m'Lord."
"Indeed?" came the quarry. "You scared off my watchings."
"I do beseech you m'Lord, to forgive this lowly being" giving small bow Probos' beady upturned blue-gray eyes twinkled, "Yet I had heard whispering amongst them they did not kindly like you anyway."
Shaking his head minutely, secretly throwing a questioning glance into his earthly 'home' to the newly entered tenants, Ares faced his son. Had he the inclination to laugh, he would have done so. Probos and Eros seemed to have inherited their mother's sense of humor, without fail tried to ensnarl him with it, getting a reaction from him; it seemed to be their happy, sometimes particular, lot in life. And for this reason among other if he was not in a "mood", he fought tooth and sword to not give a reaction.
Instead he shook his head once more, watching as his son straightened up, grinning at him. Ares smirked back. "That may be but if the skies were green and grass blue, I should call you not but a jesters ass."
Brows furrowing in thought, Probos' small yet strong arms folded pondering this insightful sentence. It took all but a few small minutes to realize his father had just insulted his intelligence. "Saa... In case being a jester's ass could out wit the Courts own with tongue of steel! And be faster still then mule or Mercury's wings!" A somewhat cheeky grin, if not a bit frightening as well to someone other then Ares, appeared. "Even still as an ass might be, you could not be rid of me!"
Sigh. Truth was enough in there standing. He was able in no way or form to be rid of Probos, even with as much an ass he could be of times. In his left hand his Lover would surly be disappointed in him; in the right, his other would strike him down, again and again. Then in heart, he would not, for any reason, think of being rid of the young man before him.
Turning from inspecting the brush nearby, Ares let his startling sharp eyes gaze at his first son. Probos was tall, a mere inch shorter then his sire. Hair as pale of white oval hung like swept silk to mid back, gracing sloping shoulders, which tapered off into short thin arms darted here and there by muscles which belied his true strength. His chest, broad and strong flowed into a slim waist down to longer legs.
Ares would be first to admit that his First was an anomalous sight to see. For how could one such as he come from a coupling of people so alike? Ares himself did not know the answer to this question; he did not waste time thinking on it, only loving and appreciating the precious gift bestowed upon him. Even if his First had a wickedly evil liking in causing terror among the masses - he was after all, his son.
Chuckling lowly so his son would not hear, the dark headed God settled on another smirk before beckoning his offspring to follow him. "Come Probos" command back in place, "We must make our rounds before the start."
"Aye m'Lord" it never seized to make his sire's ire tickle at his own son calling him 'm'lord', but Probos was always one to dance outside of Death's arms, "As ye so wish it, it shall be!"
With that, father and son, Gods of their own places, left to inspect the battlefield to see how such a mass scale war was proceeding, to see which side might be the victor, to see if his blessed needed more spirits... To have something to keep busy by.
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~oOo~ * ~oOo~ * ~oOo~ * ~oOo~
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Ha! The first chapter out! ::grins:: Whatcha think? I'm tryin' to keep mystery in it. Ane-chan assures she likes the mystery of it, so I guess I'm achiving that part, ne? ^___^ Welps, do please let me know whatcha think! I''ll work on planning the next chapter more so it can be goten out sooner. 'Til then, if your reading anything else of mine, keep your eyes open! ~_^ Arigatou!!
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Keep it kickin'! ~ Anime Redneck
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