THE encroaching of the sunset dyed the sky many sweet colors as if the heavens were rich fruits beginning to ripen. Aphrodite looked down from the heights of his House of Pisces Temple, allowing his fingertips to caress the weathered texture of one of the many columns holding up his ancient domain. A few small patches of roses peppered the grassy area around the entrance of his temple, some a brilliant red, and others strikingly black or white. Only Aphrodite knew the normal ones from the deadly ones, but even it was hard for him to tell as they danced amongst the green grass, bidding the sun goodbye whilst reflecting the sky's wondrous colors.
Aphrodite pondered for a while as he fixated on a very particular white rose, slightly roughed up by the ever changing natural world around it. This rose, lopsided and missing a few precious petals stood out from its pristine friends. So much so that Aphrodite was compelled to remove it from the ground, but not to cull it, to pick it in the curious and gentle way in which maidens do.
While the flower was healthy looking, some of its petals swayed, only slightly rustled by the winds. Aphrodite was often touted as the most terrible of the twelve Gold Saints, and also the most beautiful. While he enjoyed such titles highlighting not only his strength and cruelty, but also his beauty and poise, he was always a bit anxious for someone else to challenge him.
As he peered down at the temples below him, he thought of all the ways he could outsmart or outshine the Saint of each temple, if they ever tried to challenge him. However, as his eyes traveled down the horizon, he recognized that particular temple and its Gold Saint so far in the distance like he was looking at the Northern Star. House of Cancer, where the Cancer Saint, Deathmask rules. While Aphrodite was largely unconcerned with Deathmask's power level, what with him often labeled the weakest of Athena's Gold Saints, he still challenged Aphrodite in a different way.
Like the freshly picked flower, Deathmask had a weakness and ugliness to him, but Aphrodite couldn't help being drawn to such vulnerability. So drawn he was, that Aphrodite decided to leave his temple for the time being. Down each step, carved from natural stone, his long aqua hair flowing behind him, suspended delicately by the heavenly wind, he walked. Aphrodite's Golden Pisces Cloth clattered quietly as he continued down the path towards the temple of Aquarius as the first checkpoint on his journey. He squinted a little at the orange sun, still bright, but now low in the sky, hugged by pink and yellow cirrus clouds.
He hoped he would get to see Deathmask before dusk, but then again. Deathmask always seemed more playful when the sun went down.
AROUND the bend of Aolia's majestic Leo Temple, opened the mouth of a path dusted with grass turned rough and sparse as it stretched to the fourth temple, Deathmask's territory. The scene was made all the more ominous as dusk finally passed, exchanging the warm light of the sun for the glow of the moon and the glittering of her stars.
As the entrance of the Temple of the Giant Crab got closer with each step, the sound of chaotic laughter grew louder. Aphrodite shook his head while holding the rose close to his chest. I can never figure out why he's so compelled to make such silly noises. Aphrodite thought to himself, letting out a small chuckle of his own at the absurdity of Deathmask's steady, yet maniacal laughter.
Aphrodite stood in the entryway of the temple, in a way he might call baleful, but he just enjoyed looking over situations before approaching. He enjoyed looking over his Deathmask. The Cancer Temple was always dark, and the structure, huge and imposing with its height, created the illusion of its walls and angles constantly looming over whoever dared to enter. Aphrodite narrowed his eyes slightly while looking inside, almost every inch of the walls and floors were decorated with the twisted faces of the tortured and weary. All were the faces, no, the souls of those Deathmask has killed. Each unique feature, wether it a Roman nose, a cleft chin, or even a beauty spot like Aphrodite had, on every face was illuminated with the harsh cerulean of the raging sacred fire that burned in a violent thrashing amongst ash in a basin of black basalt rocks. The mystic flame cracked itself like a whip, both distorting and accentuating the upsetting facial expressions in an ever changing rapid fire chiaroscuro, animating each mask almost like they were screaming with a silent second voice.
Standing in front of the sacred fire was Deathmask, his cloth a blaze with the reflections of the blue fire igniting its form, as if he were donning armor made of pure electricity. Now swept away by his insane laughter, with unintelligible mumbling in between breaths, he was unaware of Aphrodite's presence. A dark aura and nasty cosmo was always about Deathmask, in this case the ethereal and mournful cries of the souls lost, rang distant sobs in Aphrodite's ears. This was enough to make anyone cringe, Aphrodite included. As he brought his shoulders to his earlobes so he could shiver for a brief moment, he noticed Deathmask was in the process of torturing a soul. He stepped on its face, embedded helplessly in the intricate floor tiles. He rhythmically stomped his foot almost as if he was performing a wicked dance. Aphrodite shut his eyes, thinking his fellow Saint's terrible collection to be such a pointless endeavor. He confirmed right there in his mind Deathmask's place as the weakest, only a weakling would so brazenly show off his prowess like some kind of evil game hunter. Despite Aphrodite thinking it worse than strange, he found himself tickled by Deathmask's intrinsic desire to prove.
"You know, you're so ugly, Mephisto." Aphrodite said snidely as he took a step into Deathmask's temple letting his voice echo in the chaos.
"What the hell?!" Deathmask growled turning his body with comic speed to face Aphrodite in surprise. "Don't call me by that name." Deathmask spat, crinkling lines on his nose in anger.
Aphrodite simply approached holding a wry smirk, thinking the awful Cancer Saint should be subject to a little healthy torment himself.
"And don't call me ugly either," He huffed allowing the groans from the tortured souls to subside.
"Aww, then again, you're so cute," Aphrodite cooed mockingly while reaching up to Deathmask's cheek.
Promptly his hand was swatted away, the movement agitating the sacred flame into another tizzy.
"Don't call me cute either," Deathmask roared before taking a short pause to pout it seemed. "You're always teasing me." He added while crossing his arms like a child or a tsundere.
"You know how I am. I'm rather relentless," Aphrodite replied back calmly, observing the fire as it began to settle and crackle stubbornly.
"What did you come here for anyways, Rapunzel?" Deathmask asked trying to poke fun at Aphrodite with negligible success.
"It certainly wasn't to listen to you cackling like a hen," Aphrodite grinned smugly making sure to carefully step over the masks on the floor as he approached his dear friend.
"Well, you're bothering me whatever it is," Deathmask said after sucking his teeth with a slightly exasperated face. "Make it quick or leave me be, I'm busy entertaining myself."
Aphrodite let himself gaze at Deathmask, who's dark thick eyebrow was now twitching with frustration. As naturally as his lungs drew breath, Aphrodite's eyes softened at his distressed friend. Unable to figure out why he couldn't help his amorous gaze, Aphrodite smiled slightly, showing the smallest bit of his white teeth with a meager laugh half of amusement and half of embarrassment. Perhaps sometime before their birth, before time itself, Aphrodite and Deathmask's souls were made for each other, before they were given names and life. Deathmask was the only Gold Saint and possibly the only person Aphrodite would tolerate such banter. Banter in which their back and forth felt like blows thrown and kisses stolen simultaneously.
"You just gonna look at me dumb all night?" Deathmask almost struggled to keep his angry tone as the faint indication of blush darkened his dishonest face amongst the blue fire's light.
"What a terrible waste of a night," Aphrodite coyly broke his silence while turning his head away and outstretching his arm to Deathmask in a motion so fluid his long hair followed with its own signature flourish. "For you, Mephisto."
Aphrodite let his eyes close softly. Embarrassment was an emotion he rarely experience, but it almost seemed inevitable when he was alone with Deathmask, partly because it was so often self inflicted. Even with closed eyes, he could tell Deathmask was aghast, the slight guttural noise from Deathmask's mouth tickled Aphrodite's ears under the roar of the fire.
"Choked up, are you?" Aphrodite playfully laughed allowing himself to look in Deathmask's eyes for only a perfect moment.
"Is this some kind of joke?! And what did I tell you about calling me that name!?" Deathmask growled while clenching his fists and teeth tight enough to make sound.
"Must you always be so cranky, Mephisto? I'm close to you, am I not? I should be able to call you by your given name," Aphrodite drew his arm back, knowing Deathmask wasn't going to accept his gift. Despite that, Aphrodite still enjoyed performing such a romantic gesture.
"I'll be the judge of that, Aphro," Deathmask grumbled while letting his eyes shoot down to the rose again. Its white petals glowed with the blue flames like they were perfect looking glasses. "You really picked a flower for me?" His voice, while puzzled, matured greatly after all his sophomoric outbursts.
Aphrodite tried again, only presenting his Deathmask the flower with a simple bend of his elbow. "I was thinking about you," Again Aphrodite averted his eyes, until the flower was plucked from his hand a little more gingerly than he'd expect.
As Aphrodite looked upon his Deathmask once more, he noticed the Cancer Saint's gentle side. Deathmask held it up to his widened eyes and twisted it between his fingers, admiring its preciousness. For a second Aphrodite saw his crabby friend's expression soften and felt his awful aura subside.
"It's a little messed up, Aphro," Deathmask said, a whine chasing his words spoken in his nasally voice as he continued to examine the rose's imperfections curiously.
"Just like you," Aphrodite laughed quietly as Deathmask jumped in surprise at the jab. "Also, the correct response is, thank you, Aphrodite. You should work on your social skills, Mephisto."
Before Deathmask could get fully wound up by the comments, he grimaced and let out a dramatic yelp. One of the rose's inconspicuous thorns pierced the very tip of his thumb as if it was trying to intercept any incoming tantrum and set off a completely new one at the same time.
"Ahh! It poked me!" Deathmask yelled out, putting on a performance in the process.
Aphrodite began to believe Deathmask just enjoyed making noise and yelling for yelling's sake.
"Here, bite down very, very softly," Aphrodite directed while taking a hold of the rose like he's done many times before and placing it in Deathmask's mouth, just barely brushing his lips with his fingers. Immediately Deathmask obliged and calmly bit down as if he's been soothed by Aphrodite's voice that was made delicate by such an honest call for help.
Aphrodite held up his Deathmask's hand, gripping it carefully with both his own and eyeballed the injury closely. Against the cool colored light of the fire, a tiny bit of blood reflected a proud burgundy and began to bead up on Deathmask's thumb. Aphrodite watched the blood shimmer and hold its spherical shape as the Cancer Saint quivered and watched on himself. An onslaught of intrusive thoughts seized Aphrodite's mind. Nagging him about what he should do next. So much so that he began to zone out, thinking Deathmask was the type who liked and craved being spoiled. He attempted to shoo away any other thoughts about what additional things Deathmask liked and craved and came to the conclusion that the most attentive way to get rid of the blood would be the best.
"You're breathing on my hand," Deathmask struggled to say clearly as he obviously wasn't used to holding a rose in his mouth and talking at the same time. Aphrodite snapped out of his trance and looked up at his Deathmask, who's face had gone red again, probably from an array of different emotions. "It's not poisonous is it? Sneaky bastard," again he started to complain.
"It's not, let me help you with this," Aphrodite gave a very slight smile and proceeded to open his mouth and lick Deathmask's thumb only twice with his pink tongue.
From the tensing of his muscles, Aphrodite could tell Deathmask was shocked, but he didn't utter a sound other than a hushed gasp.
"There, now will you stop shouting?" Aphrodite said coolly while releasing Deathmask's hand, immediately yearning for the intimate warmth back.
"You licked it!? Now you made a mess." Deathmask groaned weakly while holding the rose in between his fingers to examine his now tasted injured hand.
"Is thank you just not in your vocabulary?" Aphrodite shook his head before peering out of the Cancer Temple's entrance at a cluster of familiar stars from the constellations of Cygnus, Aquila, and Lyra, arranged in a triangle in the summer sky. "Let's go outside, Deathmask. To stargaze. I don't want to hear any No's,"
"Stargaze? Don't you have anything better to do than bother me?" Deathmask frowned and crossed his arms yet again, causing the fire behind him to sway anxiously as if he commanded it.
"I said, I don't want to hear, no," Aphrodite gave a pout of his own, returning the same energy to his dear friend. "You know, I'm not above dragging you, Mephisto, and I will drag you if I have to." Before Deathmask could even respond, Aphrodite grabbed a hold of his arm, making sure to avoid the sharp angles of his cloth with practiced skill and speed before beginning to drag him out. He couldn't help laughing over Deathmask's assorted cursing and fussing as he lifted his knees high to step around whatever masks were in their path. Unfortunately his efforts didn't stop Deathmask from trampling and disturbing the masks on their way out.
DEATHMASK'S curmudgeonly grumbling ceased once the pair arrived at the very top of the Fire Clock. The warm night wind found Aphrodite more gently, as its smoothness was more prominent at such a height. The soft breeze had a calming effect as it passed through Aphrodite's hair delicately like an ethereal comb when it blew his hair behind him. The vast midnight sky greedily occupied the pair's attention as it begged to be looked at with all its sparkling treasures.
Aphrodite sat down first, allowing his legs to dangle over Athena's Sanctuary as it all unfolded beneath him. He patted a spot next to him while offering a closed eyed smile. Almost like Deathmask had read his mind, he sat a bit closer to Aphrodite than normal and sat in a rebellious way letting one leg rest over the edge while his other was bent and stayed closer to his body.
The two were quiet ever since they got to the top of the clock tower, Aphrodite wanted to break the silence, but as he turned his gaze from the constellations of Cassiopeia, Ophiuchus, and endless more to Deathmask also engrossed in the peaceful stargazing. He felt that moment of serenity too sweet not to savor for a few more seconds.
"Is your finger better?" Aphrodite asked, subconsciously wanting to touch Deathmask's hand again.
"It's fine. Thank you." Deathmask said over exaggerating his words of gratitude, probably to avoid another lecture.
"Good, I would say I'd expect you to do the same for me, but my blood is actually poison," Aphrodite replied in a cheeky tone.
"You're such a blowhard," Deathmask said crassly, but with a hint of lovingness, now examining the rose against the stars. "I'm not good at taking care of flowers, maybe I should do something else with it." He continued without taking his eyes off the rose.
Aphrodite moved his hands in front of himself to sit up from his reclined position and eyed Deathmask with a quizzical tilt of his head. After the slightest of pauses, Deathmask began to tug at one of the larger petals of the flower, separating it from the rest.
"She loves me." He said rather tenderly before releasing the petal and letting it flutter to the ground, swept faster by the wind.
He then plucked another, "She loves me not." More petals fell listlessly slowly meandering and getting smaller until they looked like fragile snowflakes, then nothing at all.
"She loves me," another petal fell. "She loves me not," and another. "She loves me."
Finally after all but one descended, Deathmask pulled the very last petal from the stem, he spoke. "She loves me not," as he let go and watched the stark white petal twist in the passing wind like it was waving its last goodbyes. Deathmask placed the rose stem on the stone beneath them and sighed only slightly, hanging his head. "What luck I have," he huffed, not trying to hide his dejection at all
In turn, Aphrodite chuckled and opened his hand, moving it close to Deathmask's face. First his fingertips, then his palm glided across the side of his Deathmask's warm face like it was created to do such a thing. The cold smooth surface of the Cancer Saint's mask produced a noise as it made contact with Aphrodite's fingernails. With his thumb he caressed Deathmask's now hot and red cheek in a rhythmic motion meant to bring comfort to both himself and his Deathmask.
"Oh Mephisto, maybe she doesn't love you," Aphrodite started speaking, not caring if he was cooing or not. "Maybe she's absolutely, wholeheartedly, unequivocally head over heels for you," Aphrodite continued to stroke Deathmask's cheek, probably blushing a bit himself, with eyes that gazed upon his dear friend nebulously, as he meant so many things to poor Aphrodite.
"To say she loves you would be an offensive understatement, Mephisto," Aphrodite said, thinking he should move his hand away, yet deciding against it.
For a second or two, Deathmask looked away again, revealing his softer side before turning his full attention back to Aphrodite. With his hand, he lightly grasped Aphrodite's allowing both their cloth to clatter together like the bells on a cat's collar as they reacted to each other's touch.
"You sure do know how to make things intimate, Fish Stick," Deathmask smiled lightheartedly. "That must be why they call you Aphrodite." While that wasn't the reason, Aphrodite was perfectly fine with it being his Deathmask's own personal reason.
The night breeze, blowing cooler compared to the heat between the pair, hushed the two silent again. They looked at each other without moving as if they'd been turned into a lovely statue illustrating a melodramatic fable. They continued long enough for a wispy gray cloud to pass from one side of the watchful moon to the other. When they began to speak words again, they only said one a piece, as if they were the only words they knew.
"Aphrodite."
"Mephisto."
Hope you Enjoyed the story, it was a quick one. I'm not Saint Seiya expert so please don't hold me on any lore inconsistencies. Thanks.