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 Posted: Thu Oct 19, 2017 3:42 pm
Quote: Occurs prior to Halloween events -- early- to mid-October
His thoughts visited the homework waiting eagerly at home to pounce, more terrible than ever now that he was in his second year of high school and it had evolved into a beast of sophomore proportions. As if that hadn't been bad enough, his particular workload outsized his classmates' due to the week and a half of his absence it had to grow, courtesy of Mirrorspace's abduction. And as menacing as the assignments were, they didn’t occupy the space for ‘most disconcerting matters’ at the forefront of his ponderings. That honor was reserved for a concept that threatened to corrode his ideals.
After that Mirrorscape misadventure, he had indulged in a few days of just being Jack before it quickly got old. The fear of his civilian lifestyle being impacted by outside, supernatural forces grew too great for him to ignore the threat any longer and he once more took up his own mantle as a supernatural force himself. Though sorely resistant to return to the Dark Mirror Senshi life at first, his reluctance melted away as he fell into the familiar monotony of roaming free and energy collecting via mirrorwraith. It was marginally more engaging than being powered down, especially with his newly-enhanced abilities to get used to, but it still lacked the excitement he had gradually become accustomed to over the previous couple of months.
Since when he began to crave excitement of this certain nature, he wasn’t sure, but it truly unnerved him. He had always enjoyed conflict when he was the spectator rather than the one involved, but this was different. Having had his life threatened directly by situations such as those that had involved Faustite, Mirrorspace, and Altea, he had gotten a taste of the thrills that only near-death experiences could provide. As he was quickly discovering, that taste was alarmingly addicting for someone who took pride in exercising his abilities and seeing what he was capable of. Perversely, it seemed that the closer to death he approached, the more vividly he felt alive.
Wasn’t it more practical to focus on preserving that life rather than experimenting with how intensely he could experience it? It seemed like sound logic and had been his reasoning for years, but he now he couldn’t get himself to concentrate on logos with pathos interfering. He knew he enjoyed testing his own limits and seeing how far he could get using his wit and cunning, but he couldn’t really do so without directly being faced with a real threat. Even tricksters seemed unable to remove themselves completely from the situations they observed; there was always some element of meddling, however subtle or indirect. But then why was he no longer satisfied with that subdued level of involvement?
The viewpoints of passionate idiots and reckless daredevils were becoming disturbingly easier and easier for Sinope to align with and he didn’t like it one bit. It was shaking the foundation he had built many of his personal policies on until it threatened to crumble; policies he had followed for years without issue. And yet, the more he thought about it, the more he wondered if he hadn’t just subconsciously sought danger all this time with only the excuse of being a spectator. After all, hadn’t he initiated conflict himself time and time again, both with bullies at school and powered beings he used his magic on? If he’d really rated self-preservation as his highest priority, why did he bother powering up to become Sinope at all? Was it really because that was the only way he could protect himself and his family from other powered beings, or was that just another excuse?
He had been convinced for ages that risks were to be avoided at all costs, but was that changing? Or had it already changed long ago and he was only just starting to recognize the truth? So much for knowing myself, Sinope thought grimly before adopting a reluctant smile. Elex was right, damn it. He’d probably be gloating if he could see me now. Sick of sky, he idly turned his head to one side for a change of scenery. Then again, he is partly to blame. After what I said to him about people who think they know themselves, I wonder if this is a self-fulfilling prophecy.
A quaint little cafe was coming up. As the truck began to decelerate for a red light, Sinope was able to make out the people seated outside enjoying the clear weather. Heh, that guy sorta looks like Elex, he thought, amused, shifting his attention to a couple nearby. Then he did a double-take. His amusement promptly vanished. Wait, that is Elex. He pushed himself up onto his elbows and squinted. Though the young man’s eyes weren’t easily distinguishable from this distance, his hands appeared normal, the surrounding air was clear of smoke, and there were most certainly no pipes protruding from his back. What the fu - ?!
The ice cream truck came to a high-pitched halt that would have been gentle to anyone holding on to or fastened inside the vehicle. Distracted as he was on the roof of the truck, Sinope met neither of those requirements. The momentum of the halting jerk lifted his legs above his head so that he tumbled in an unintended backward somersault off his perch and onto the hood of the car braked behind. Sliding off the hood, he landed on his feet; sore, but whole. Ignoring the outraged bullets of profanity shot his way by the driver of the car he landed on, he began stalking from the middle of the street toward the cafe with slow, deliberate steps, deaf and blind to all else around him.
Maybe once he reached the other teen, he would find out he didn’t look so much like the youngest Yorke after all. Or perhaps he’d wake up from some absurd dream. But no - once he reached the very human-looking youth, no further explanation presented itself. Sinope stopped, stood, and stared blankly at Elex for several pregnant seconds before opening his mouth.
“You have got to be ******** kidding me.”5TH TEEN FOUND DEAD IN 'MURDER ROW'
Elex's gaze narrowed at the passage, which sported an innocuous picture of one of many meandering alleyways in the heart of the city. The column itself squashed down into thin lines beneath the picture, contrary to its front page slot. In the feature, numerous explanations were cited for the deaths -- heart attack from a potentially deadly plant, toxic runoff from one of the nearby manufacturing facilities, or sometimes the Smiley Face death cult. Never once did they mention starseeds. Looks like someone's making a name for himself. How troublesome.
At his hammered brass outdoor table, Elex's newspaper spread over the brunt of its circular frame. Two glasses pinned the paper to the table, to the wind's chagrin -- one being a shot-sized glass of water, and the other a ceramic cup of tea from the Istanbul Café. A pocket watch sat next to his tea, opened, with its crystal face looking toward the sky. Moving his water glass, Elex dipped his fingers into it before turning the page. The glass found its home shortly before a light breeze rolled through.
A glance to his watch confirmed the time. He furrowed brows in contemplation of his brother's sudden taste for tardiness. You have no excuse for being late, brother. Mother would make sure of it.
But thought of Erol soon left his mind altogether. A head-shaped shadow obstructed his sun, and Elex frowned. "There's no need for --" Elex cut himself off at once as his intruder interrupted. Sinope. The youth dropped his voice to a low conversational tone. "What are you doing here?" I can think of no worse time for you to show up.
"You need to leave." Elex bristled, his delicate hands bracing against back of chair and edge of table as he twisted in his seat. "Someone's going to see you." Someone with a lot of questions and a lot of distrust for Elex's explanations.The Dark Mirror Senshi gaped in appalled exasperation. The temerity! “Someone’s going to see me?” he cried in outrage. “What am I doing here? Do you ******** listen to yourself?! Because I damn well know you aren’t listening to me.”
Well, at least he knew for certain from the raven-haired adolescent’s response that he was, indeed, the person he appeared to be and not some conjured illusion or other magic trick. He obviously recognized the redhead. But Sinope doubted anyone other than Elex could have had the nerve to have been caught in the situation he had and not only calmly maintain his composure, but additionally act as though he was the one who was owed an explanation. And to top it all off, now he was telling the senshi that he needed to leave; a demand, not a request.
“Um, no,” Sinope answered, feigning a degree of composure as he leaned an arm on the brass table. “I just got here and I’m not leaving until I get answers, so if you want me to go, I suggest you start talking, and fast. What the <********> are you doing here and how are you looking like that, hmm?” He kept a mockingly pleasant tone with a tight-lipped smile. His outfit, though different from when he’d last seen the Negaverse captain, was as suspicious-looking and attention-drawing as ever in broad daylight if not worse, but he seemed too incensed to care just then.
“When you say someone’s going to see me, did you have someone specific in mind? Because if you meant the general public, ‘someone’ already has.” He jutted his chin outward to indicate the strangers - bystanders and passersby - surrounding them. “Why, were you expecting to meet someone here?” The forced smile broadened as he reached out to jerk Elex’s chair back from the table. “Your general, maybe? Or a date?” He sneered. “A date with your general?”
Sinope’s gloved hand darted out to slide across the entire region of other teen’s back, seeking some justification for what his eyes were telling him and his brain refused to acknowledge. All he felt through the expensive cloth of well-tailored clothes, however, was a slender spine and distinctive scapulae. After a moment’s hesitation, he went so far as to slip a pair of fingers between the back of the other male’s collar and the nape of his neck so as to sneak a peek down the back of his shirt. "It's not your business," Elex responded, suppressing a snarl. What right had Sinope to demand answers? "By being here, you're attracting attention. You're wasting my time --" The terrible stretch of three hours given to play man instead of monster. But you would know nothing of that, with your alter ego toggling so easily under your control. You can forget Sinope. You can navigate the banalities of life without the sword of Damocles to waver over your neck. I bet you've never even tasted the blade.
He turned as quiet fire from his companion. Baleful black eyes glowered to newspaper print, where text stabbed into its dirty grey pages. "I don't have long like this, so don't ruin it." This ghost from utopia. I fade out in the span of an opera. A seminar. A concert.
Elex felt the jerk abruptly, and startled so from his thoughts, gripped the table harshly. "Don't be dense. I don't have to hide myself to meet with a general." The mention of a date roused further ire from the teen. A hissing sigh left him, and he wished at once for the power to banish Sinope or crush his starseed wholesale. The Mirror Senshi intended with every part of his being to play a pest, and Elex stumbled irrevocably into each trap set. He felt the fool, the klutz, the idiot. He felt the simpleton. He felt the peasant to the lord. Power washed out from him so cleanly that only bone-dry sand slipped through his fingers. He could no more conjure the effort to penetrate Sinope's back with an insidious hand than he could teleport, or blow smoke, or bend the table's hammered metal frame.
But Sinope would pick and pick and pick and pick and pick.
Fingers groped his back and Elex straightened immediately, spine rising with the sun, back locked tight with every sinewy muscle woven along bone spines. Pushy hands jerked and fumbled their way along, delving into the darks of his back for the pipes left unseen. Again, he swallowed his ire, its flame burning pits through his stomach. Then at last, Sinope caught fingers in collar and gloved fingers touched barest second skin. Gooseflesh rolled over his features --
Elex swiveled at once in his seat and slapped the Mirror Senshi. His hand stung for it, and in the moment, he checked frantically for signs of skin tears. None looked back at him. No black remained on pallid fingers. He breathed. "Don't do that again," he hissed in low tones. "You won't find anything.
"It's a glamour. It's a false skin. It's no different than when no one recognizes you as Sinope. The way your mother could lay eyes on you and not know you from a stranger. It's magical, and dangerous --" He drew back on the phrase, breathing in its dregs before its meaning could crack his placid features.
"I'm meeting Erol. Satisfied?" Elex shot him a reproachful glare. "Now go. Please." Upon hearing the words, ‘it’s not your business’, Sinope’s grin became positively wicked. He allowed Elex to speak without backchat, but his scheming countenance promised something far worse in the near future. The senshi considered why it was that Elex seemed so desperate not to have attention drawn his way and why it was, exactly, that he claimed the redhead was ‘wasting his time’. The fact that he cut himself off so abruptly to stare at a newspaper Sinope knew for a fact Elex wasn’t reading at that moment only intrigued the sailor scout further.
It’s amazing how much more expressive and readable those eyes are when they’re human, he thought, inspecting his peer with renewed enthusiasm. Is this an effect of whatever changed him, getting him all flustered and upset? Either that or he must really be anxious about whatever he’s waiting for… No. ‘Who’. It has to be a ‘who’. He chortled softly to himself just as he registered through his thin gloves the bumps suddenly stippling Elex’s skin. He doesn’t want whomever it is to see me. But why?
The sharp strike to his cheek ceased both his thoughts and actions in a flash of pain and shock. A moment or two passed before he was able to process that he had been slapped and his assailant was staring at the responsible hand with a rare look of panic. ...And here I thought you’d traded some of your humanity for those changes made to you. Did you manage to get a refund? It had been well worth the injury to his face to get a glimpse of that Elex, and Sinope would not soon forget it. It was as if the force from the blow had imprinted the young man’s vulnerability into his memory.
The contrast of the slap to a throttled throat, a squeezed starseed, and a respiration system scorched by liquid ash put into perspective just how powerless the dark-haired teen seemed to be right at that moment. Even after Elex reprimanded him for his behavior, commanding him not to repeat it, and then explained the reason for his outward appearance, Sinope was still processing what that weakness might have meant...and the myriad of ways he could use it to his advantage.
Spiteful as he was, vengeance was among the first things to come to mind. He wasn’t the sort who would have gained satisfaction from using brute force to put someone in their place, especially in public, so sharing the invigorating experience of nearly being strangled to death was immediately crossed off the list. However, Sinope had what he believed to be much better and entertaining plots concocted for his revenge. Perhaps Elex would think twice about crossing him again if this played out as the senshi intended.
The disguised captain’s honesty and submission to his requirement of information once more astounded the redhead. Again he wondered if Elex gave information so readily or this was an effect of whatever glamour allowed him to appear this way. Again he noticed the self-interruption and strange behavior that followed. Said behavior was somewhat explained by the mention of Erol, Elex’s older brother, and the use of the term ‘please’ seemed to interpret as the closest to begging Sinope ever thought he’d hear out of the chaos officer’s mouth. It was almost enough to make the senshi regret his vindictive designs. Almost.
“I don’t know if anyone’s ever told you this, but you get flustered in the same fashion as a schoolgirl and it’s pretty adorable,” he taunted, planting his hands on his hips. Then he exhaled deeply and dropped his arms to his sides, shoulders sagging in defeat. “Alright, alright, since you told me what I wanted to know and asked so nicely and used the magic word. I’m kinda surprised you’re acting so compliant, but I’m a man of my own word, so I’ll be leaving now.”
Chancing a final pat on the other’s back, he picked up the empty ceramic cup on the table and thoughtfully turned it this way and that. Shrugging, he then lifted the small saucer it came with and carried both toward the entrance to the cafe. “Have fun catching up!” his chipper voice carried over his shoulder as he slipped indoors.
The thing was, Elex had only asked him to go. He hadn’t asked Sinope not to return. Elex watched him, expression unchanging, through the attempted insult. He watched him further when Sinope conceded to leaving. Does it surprise you that I learn, Senshi? That I adapt? How low you must have thought of me.
Suspicion followed after Sinope when he absconded with the teacup, and started his way toward the cafe front. Elex knew peripherally of senshi and knights who stopped for coffees while powered -- despite their stigma, despite their uniforms painting danger up their sides and unrest across their faces -- but to see it in action left his jaw stuck tight. What a ludicrous choice. Showing up dressed like that, did he really expect to get service? Or was he looking to manipulate the servers as he so oft tried with Elex? With Faustite, the name he had yet to glean?
It didn't matter. A voice interrupted him checking his pocket watch. Black eyes surfaced from time, met his brother's honeyed brown, and chanced a smile. "Erol."
His brother matched him with a much broader smile. All bleached blond hair and leather jacket and hands-in-pockets flippancy, Erol strode to the table with a well-earned confidence. A flick of the wrist pulled one of the metal chairs out to the side, its back cradling his left arm as he sat. Hunching. He crossed arms on the table. "'Teen found dead in murder row', huh? Are you looking for people like yourself, who just vanished into thin air?" The older Yorke slipped a lighter and flip-top box from pocket, and pilfered it with greedy hands for the cigarettes inside.
"When did you start smoking?" Elex's nose wrinkled perceptibly.
"Knock it off; you sound like Mom." A click, a flick, a light. He breathed cancer and sawdust into his lungs. "Recently. That's all you need to know, little bro."
Elex swallowed his blistering comebacks. "It isn't that. We've seen a few city undersides from vacations and moving around -- but none were quite so strange as this. People disappearing in ways the KGB would envy. Healthy teens dropping like rotten fruit for no discernible reason. A newspaper system so staunchly opposed to reporting the truth." Elex tugged the magazine out from under his fingertip water, folding it up neatly into its previous square. "I know what happened to him. It wasn't a heart attack, or a strangulation. He wasn't drugged. But the answer's so fantastical that no one would believe it in print. The truth gets hostaged out of public hands because the truth is so impossible to believe. But people -- this newspaper's audience -- don't care a fig for the truth. They acquired a taste for fear and misery."
Erol sat back in his seat with another lazy puff of smoke. He looked to the cigarette in hand, seemingly satisfied, then glanced beyond his brother's narrow shoulders. "I think you need to cool it, El. Get stoned. Get laid. Get something, because you've got to be pretty damn uptight to believe something like that. Sounds like you've been hanging around Mom too much, and I know you haven't seen her in months." Erol cocked an easy grin.
"Hey, who's that?" Erol gestured beyond his brother's frame toward the cafe front, toward a devious figure swathed in darks.
Elex made no attempt to answer as he turned in his seat, though he ground his teeth when he spotted the source of his brother's interest. Merrily making his way to the line at the cafe counter, Sinope ignored the stares he earned with his peculiar getup. Though he wasn’t fond of making public appearances in his senshi fuku, particularly in broad daylight, he believed that if he acted naturally enough, no one would make too big a deal about it. Once or twice he was questioned or teased about his choice of wardrobe, but he had found that if he played it off as cosplaying or an eccentric fashion sense, most people seemed to buy it. October had the additional bonus of being a month during which it was more common to see costumes, so it also allowed him the opportunity to pass his clothing off as an ensemble to show his spirit for the season.
Of course there were still those who knew a senshi when they saw one and associated said beings with danger. It was here that Sinope relied on a few things to persuade the cafe’s other occupants that he was no threat. For his part, he smiled boyishly and turned up the charm when he requested a refill of the ceramic cup’s previous contents. He also set down his wallet on the countertop to wordlessly assure them he intended to pay as he additionally asked for a second cup. Luckily he’d had his money on him from his previous purchase of a popsicle from the ice cream truck he’d gone energy-collecting with before. It would have been a pain to have had to power down just to grab it from his normal pant pocket.
Though the teen had detested his animal-eared hood since he first powered up and discovered it, his upgrade to a super senshi had not rid him of the absurdity. If anything, he felt that the ears had become more prominent than ever. Yet he purposely kept it up when he had entered the shop for the very reason that he knew how ridiculous it made him look. Many people - fellow Dark Mirror Senshi included, much to his chagrin - had labeled his eared hood as ‘cute’. That general consensus combined with the suspicion that he was the youngest member of his court gave Sinope the impression that no one really had much reason to take him seriously at first glance. In battle situations it was a tad irksome and damaging to his pride, but he figured it wasn’t all that bad when he could use others’ resulting underestimation of him to his advantage. In this situation, at least civilians were less likely to feel so uneasy about him.
Soon enough, Sinope was heading outside again with a small tray supporting two saucers each crowned with cups of steaming tea. He had considered getting a third, but as he hadn’t been sure if Erol even drank tea, he hadn’t wanted to waste his meager allowance on a guess. The outdoor air lightly buffeted his cheek as he stepped through the door, reminding him with a mild sting that he likely had a mark where he’d been hit. Oh well. It could have lent to the tale he prepared to spin if he played his cards right.
Erol seemed to have arrived during the course of the senshi’s absence, which suited him just fine. It would be easier to seamlessly slip into the role he planned to play if their audience was already present. His uniformed co-actor would be less inclined to falter or refuse to play along once he understood the nature of the role Sinope meant to put him in. He beamed exuberantly as he ambled over to his destination and set the tray down between the pair of seated brothers.
“Heeeey! You must be Erol!” the redhead delightedly cried. He pulled down his infernal hood and wiped his hands on his shorts before extending one to the leather-jacketed young man. “Name’s Jack. I’m Elex’s boyfriend. He’s told me so much about you.” He whirled around to snatch another chair from nearby, adding himself to their number without so much as an inquiring glance Elex’s way. “I thought I’d fetch us some more tea since Elex finished his. Would you like a cup? I can always get more.”
The acrid stench of smoke assailed Sinope’s nostrils and he stiffened as it triggered the recollections of being simultaneously drowned and burned from the inside. Hazel eyes found Erol’s cigarette and his smile became marginally tighter. That was going to have to go. Firstly, though, he needed to establish his place at the table and with Elex. His arm snaked across the back of the other teen’s chair so Sinope could clasp his far shoulder and pull him close. “You’d gotten Oolong Tea, right?” That was what the lady at the front desk had said it’d been, at least.
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Posted: Thu Oct 19, 2017 3:43 pm
Erol looked to Elex, who looked back at him with an unreadable expression. Erol sat up in his chair, though his posture remained half-cocked, and he gave a confident nod. Not once had he seen an outfit so outlandish -- the kid looked no older than his little brother, yet garbed himself in animal hoodies and clothing whose time period he couldn't even name. He looked like one of those LARPers he sometimes caught in the deep woods, waving swords of cardboard and shouting ill-conceived poetry at one another. He looked, perhaps, too happy to meet the Yorke heir himself. "Erol Yorke. Who am I speaking with?" The words came warmly, in a nature distilled from his father. Tempered, perhaps, by his mother's coolness.
He accepted the hand with his own firm grip. Calloused fingers betrayed a workman's hobby, and a single ring of black banded tungsten rested on his middle finger. He looked to the hand that he shook and found little more than glove meeting his gaze. A faux pas, certainly, but one Erol was learning to overlook.
Then the boy sat, and curled his arm around Elex, and spoke words that caused Erol's ears to grow numb.
And Erol wasn't the only one to suffer a heavy reaction. Elex immolated Sinope with his eyes -- his skin simmered and crackled, his hair erupted in smoke. The preposterous costume that Sinope called a uniform caught alight, melting into his skin, branding him with his lukewarm allegiance to a purposeless Court. Blood boiled, flesh cooked down to half its size, bone denatured and grew rigid -- breakable. He would sooner smell the acrid bacon scent of newly-dead corpse than suffer Sinope's present charade. But the arm -- whole and untouched by flame -- still wound its way around his shoulders. Fingers still rested on the narrow bend of his joint. Now, Elex had a choice to make.
He bit his tongue despite his searing gaze. He looked to Erol, whose visage gained its own trained response. He caught the redness lining the shell of his brother's ears, while Elex's own face burned with heat. Thought churned in quick fashion. The hand on his shoulder weighed on him, pulled his bones down and bent the curve of his spine under intention alone. Still, he straightened. Still, he reached with a free hand to interlace the foreign fingers on his shoulder. His hand, now cooled with the perfect imitation of glamour, slid over the top of the offending limb. Pads of fingers and manicured nails traced thin black silks. He could feel the faintest hint of Sinope's pulse in a vein tracing his thumb.
He could not yet speak. his ire still quaked, and looking to Sinope now would spoil the tenuous understanding between them. Instead, he trained his sights on his brother. Dared him to speak. Urged him to call out the audacity of it all. He nodded to Sinope's question, and waited for the impending response.
Erol shifted his leg over his opposite knee. Then he placed both feet flat on the floor. Then the other leg found its way atop the opposite knee. Then he sat up straight, dragged his chair in with a pained screech across concrete floor. He smiled. It grew, it pained him, it never cursed his eyes with dreaded crinkles. "Boyfriend, huh?" He looked to Jack, then Elex, then Jack. "Boyfriend? That's what this is about?"
Erol paused, took a drag. The cigarette burned beneath his anger. "You ran away from home, no note no nothing, to be with this a*****e?" Still smiling, Erol looked to Elex and gestured with his cigarette hand to the most offending presence at the table.
This, Elex would not argue. In this, he ghosted part of Erol's smile. Upon uttering his introduction, he felt Elex’s gaze incinerating him slowly, even if unaware of the extent and thoroughness of the imagined details. It was the touch of the other’s hand on his own, however, and the interweaving of their fingers - the ironic black from his glove with Elex’s normal complexion - that sent a tingle down the senshi’s spine. It wasn’t exactly skin-on-skin contact, but it was an intimate enough gesture for teenager to be reminded just how inexperienced he was in the ways of relationships. He swallowed hard in an attempt to be rid of the lump that had formed in his throat as it dawned on him that he might have bitten off more than he could chew.
Worse yet was the fact that the gesture was a definitive acknowledgement that Elex understood what he was up to. While that in itself wasn’t so frightening, the idea that the captain was playing along so well unsettled Sinope. He could only hope to conceive just how vehemently his peer might have opposed such actions had it been just the two of them. Thus to him, Elex’s acquiescence only bespoke how soundly he would make the senshi regret putting him in such a situation once he was finally able to do so.
But perhaps he was overthinking things and worrying too much. Perhaps. If he fretted too deeply now, he knew he wouldn’t have be able to continue his role satisfactorily. So he set those concerns aside for the time being and refocused his attention on Erol, who made it considerably easier to carry on with his undertaking.
Rich kid reactions are the best, Sinope thought as he watched the odd, seated dance that Erol’s inner emotions improvised the choreography for. They’re so trained to keep the lid of their outward composure shut tight on their personal feelings that it inevitably leaks out and they don’t know what to do with themselves. It was going to be exceedingly difficult to not break character for this ambitious endeavor, especially if it called for a straight or serious face. For the time being, though, he figured he could pass his dauntless grin off as the clueless expression of an optimistic idiot who didn’t recognize discomfort when he saw it.
It may not exactly have been wise to add fuel to the blaze, but for all his amusement, Sinope couldn’t tolerate the smoke from the cigarette any longer. Pretending he’d been too distracted by the pollution of the air to register Erol’s insult, his free hand shot out to deftly nick the cancer stick from the bleached-haired fellow’s fingers when the hand holding the offending object was directed his way.
“Whoops! Sorry, friend, but I can’t stand being around these things. I’m actually amazed you’re willing to expose your precious brother, here, to the secondhand smoke.” He deliberately dropped the thin cylinder of tobacco to grind it under the toe of his brightly-colored shoe. “Secondhand smoke is way worse than the firsthand stuff you suck down. There’s around 18,000 nanograms of the carcinogen called quinoline in the fumes you’re subjecting him to. That's about 11 times what you’re taking in yourself.”
He waved a nagging finger for emphasis. “And for the carcinogen known as diethylene, secondhand smoke has around 155 times the amount that firsthand does. If you’re that inconsiderate of your younger and only sibling, especially regarding something as important as his health, it’s really no wonder to me that he ran away from home.”
The statistics probably wouldn’t have been as ingrained into his head if he hadn’t been so adamant about finding out what sort of damage Elex’s magic had worked on his respiratory system during their battle months ago. Because he had refused to see any doctors to avoid being asked troublesome questions about his injuries, Sinope had done his best to make up for it with his own research and consequently had learned a great deal about the dangers smoking posed to one’s well being. The swallow did not pass Elex unseen. Trained as he was on his brother's reactions, the unmistakeable bob of an adam's apple reached his peripheral vision. What are you so disquieted about, Sinope? Wasn't this what you wanted? To hem me in like this? So why are you squirming?
Why are you the one gulping down your insecurities?
What purpose was there for this charade? He couldn't have known to do this for his brother's insecurities. He never once met Erol -- he wasn't at the party the night Faustite met Sinope again -- and unless Sinope sought him out of his own volition, Erol remained a name to him without a face. And even then, would Erol have mentioned anything about his quiet discomforts? Would there have been a same-sex couple there to make him squirm? Elex doubted it. Serendipity simply dealt Sinope a favor and Elex an insult.
And the lecture coming from his mouth -- Sinope pulled the focus irrevocably toward Elex. The youth set his jaw. How far are you planning to take this charade?
His brother placed no such focus on the boy. Even as he stole away his cigarette with impossible reflexes, even as he encroached on Erol's natural dominance through grinding his habits into the floor, his gaze bored into his brother. His gaze conveyed the litany of emotions simmering under his skin, puppeteering his legs. He nodded along to statistics and risks and carcinogens, unhearing. He interspersed his yeahs, his okays and his alrights expertly, a forever student of his father's lectures. Of his mother's admonishments. With every word spoken, Sinope mattered less and less. Sinope shrank from existence. He may as well have been a figment.
"This guy," he snorted with a disbelieving shake of his head. His grin grew ever wider. "This guy," his now-empty pointer finger gestured toward Sinope.
The chair rattled and fell backward with his sudden rise. A hand shot across the table. One caught Elex's collar. The other clapped him across the face. The sound cut the air, drew attention from quiet arguments and banal lives. "You have no ******** idea, do you? You have no ******** idea about all the s**t you put us through for this little stunt." Erol waved a dismissive hand toward Sinope. "You don't even know how hard I tried to find you. How much Dad cried. How much mom took to being her little reclusive self. She micromanaged me. He hostaged me to his ******** cryfests."
Elex turned his attention to Sinope. How far --
Another crack across the face. Elex yelped. "Pay attention, dear ******** brother. I'm talking to you. Mom's gonna know about this. Dad's gonna know about this. And you know what that means? You're getting disowned. Kicked outta the family. Just like that," he finished with a snap of his fingers. Sinope sorely disliked being ignored. He quickly found he liked it even less than being threatened. He was familiar with the ability to glaze over lectures, punctuating them with brief notes of acknowledgement. It was that familiarity that allowed him to see through to where Erol’s focus really lay even as his motor mouth kept going.
The older boy’s sudden grab for Elex caused the senshi to flinch as their casual hold was ripped apart. Sinope could only gape in disbelief as Erol openly hit his younger sibling and began to spew angry statements like so much poison he just couldn’t rid himself of. What was happening? Was this why Elex had been so anxious about meeting his brother? Sinope had chalked it up to his worry that he might have found out what he was, but was there something more? Or...had there been no significant hard feelings between them until Sinope had interfered with his concocted story?
Was it his fault?
He had to take responsibility if that was so. He hated responsibility, but if this had been a result of his doing, he had no other choice. He was also unused to sticking up for others and attacking with physical force, but Sinope didn’t have much time to evaluate that just then. All he knew was that he had to do something.
The redhead began by shoving the table hard into Erol’s abdomen and simultaneously yanking Elex away by an arm around his waist. Then he released the younger Yorke and snatched the elder by his own collar, finding it remarkably easier than he had anticipated it to be. A few seconds puzzling it out reminded him that it was not merely an adrenaline rush but his senshi abilities being used against a standard human’s that had created such a large gap in power. It was odd being the one doing the collar-grabbing for once, but he was grateful to be a senshi just then. If he had attempted the same feat as a civilian, he knew he wouldn’t have stood a chance.
“Heeey,” he said, grinning darkly at the taller male with his fist tangled in his shirt. “That escalated quickly. Don’t you know you shouldn’t believe everything you hear?” He jerked his arm down with the aim of slamming Erol flat against the table. “Things aren’t always what they seem. Can’t help but wonder what presumptions you already had to believe something a complete stranger told you about your brother within the first five seconds of meeting him.”
With his free hand, he firmly guided Erol by the chin to meet his eye. “Sly Secret Steal,” he uttered, still grinning, before continuing where he left off. “Erol...I don’t know what you’ve heard about senshi, but you see this outfit I’m wearing? I know, I know, it’s stupid. But right now, this proves that I’m a senshi, and the fact that I’m a senshi is the reason you’re pressed down against a table right now.” He crouched down beside the metal piece of furniture, adjusting his grip to make certain his captive stayed down.
“You don’t want to mess with senshi like me. We’re not always nice people. Elex would know. If I wanted, I could easily take you to my realm and stick you in a mirror to drain you of your energy indefinitely. If you like, I could keep you there for a few months and then we could see how you enjoy coming back to a family who thought you were dead. In the meantime, you wouldn’t have to worry about crybaby fathers or micromanaging mothers. Won’t that be nice?” Laughing, he lightly pat the taller youth’s face with a flat palm. “You can suffer as Elex has suffered and then we’ll see if you still feel the same way.”
Sinope looked back up at the Negaverse Captain, his smile evaporating as he tightened his hold on Erol’s collar. What did you want to do with him, Elex? Is he good to you for anything else, or shall I continue until I’ve scared this scumbag shitless? The table struck him, and Erol choked on his words. The rest happened much too quickly for his comfort -- the boy stood from what he gathered, and had his hands on Erol's collar long before he could have caught them. With his grip broken from his brother, he now balanced himself with hands on the offending table. Tea scattered its surface already, and crept close to his bare fingers.
'Things aren't always as they seem.' Erol knew as much. Hell, he was raised in a society of people who hid their real selves behind better natures. He learned the nuances young, learned to spot them from afar. He spent years learning the metaphorical language of golf and suits and talk of champagnes. He learned the import of business figures. He learned all these inconceivable facets while his brother skated by on absent-minded ideal and abject fantasy. He knew when things weren't as they seemed. He knew when he looked at a false projection.
And by the way this Jack was standing up for him, the way Elex was content to let him do the talking, Erol knew what he saw. He knew his brother was gay. Boyfriend or not, the exchange was telling.
But Erol's face met the table before he could speak, and hot tea ambled into his cheek. His breath came in sharp huffs to prevent it from invading his nose. Anger boiled, and Erol fought with the thin wrists that tried to restrain him. Noting dissuaded the presence -- not nails digging into skin, not a grip trained from months at the gym. What the ******** was wrong with this kid? Did he stop playing naked? He spoke of senshi like it meant something, and gave him nonsense words that further fueled his rage. The ******** was that supposed to mean? Sly Secret Steal?
He kept his voice even, calm despite the growing crowd around the table. "You better get your ******** hands off me, Jack. Just remove them right the ******** now, and walk away, and I'll forget this happened. You got that? Then you can give yourself a great big pat on the back for showing up Elex's mean old brother. Now if you could just take your asinine stories and get your hands the <********> off of me, I'll be on my way."
Elex cupped his stinging face, still somewhat silenced by the exchange. Anger and resentment formed the red splotch along normally placid features. Sinope's hand did not linger long, to his preference -- but suspicion still lingered on the senshi. He watched the scene, powerless himself, and offered no interjection into Sinope's tirade. But curiosity ensued -- what was the purpose? Why attack his brother so? He expressed sympathies for Elex's position, but the creature was reticent to accept that.
You're making a scene. Dark eyes roved their surroundings to find heads turned and people gathered in small pockets nearby. Some deliberated amongst themselves -- should they stop the scene? Should they step in and prevent injury? Some may have even recognized Erol, for what little fame their family garnered. Sinope, on the other hand, stood far more iconic with the Mirror dress and the irreconcilable display of power. Do you know what you're doing? Are you acting on impulse? Is this the role you've dreamed of taking, and you've lost yourself in the part? I wonder, Sinope. I wonder if it's been your fantasy all this time.
Boyfriend to the youngest in a well-to-do family. Annexed into the family by virtue of association. Eating well, living well off of someone else's dime. Is that what you wanted when you looked for Elex Yorke? A life spent chasing someone else's dinner scraps, of building a relationship out of your own hollow misunderstanding of yourself?
Or is it more honest than that? An irony against your magic.
Elex smiled faintly, enigmatically to himself. The gesture lasted but a moment. He looked to his brother, now pinned to the table, and saw the rage in his eyes. The ire looking for an exit. Repercussions would scathe him another day.
"Let him go," Elex said at last, voice nary above a whisper.
"About ******** time," came the response, the tea rippling beneath his breath.”Excuse me?” Sinope began to laugh bitterly as he addressed Elex. “Are you giving me orders?”
Aw, crap...I didn’t mean to draw a crowd. Another part of him asked himself what he thought had been going to happen. Of course if he behaved that violently, people were bound to notice. They were out in the open in broad daylight with people everywhere. He’d been careless. And my magic’s not working… That’s strange. Does he not have any secrets?
That didn’t mean the situation was beyond salvaging, though. He just needed a bit more time without any outside interference. “You must really miss those mirrors. Are you really so eager to return?” Sinope’s knuckles were white as he clung to his prize. “Despite my coming here to find a replacement for you, you’re being a nuisance.” He frowned in displeasure at Elex.
“Perhaps it’s a testament to your love for brother to speak up for him despite his obvious contempt toward you. What a fool. You know, I would have been happy to watch his little scene play out if he hadn’t made the slights of underestimating and ignoring me. He only has himself to blame, now.”
Looking back at Erol, his demeanor brightened as he leaned closer to the other male’s ear. “Hey...is what you said before true?” he asked gleefully, his voice hushed. “If your family would cause that much of a fuss over their younger son supposedly being gay, what would they do if they had to suffer the same rumors about their heir?”
Hazel eyes bored into honeyed brown and Sinope’s lips drew close to his ear as his free hand stroked the side of Erol’s face. “Would they be able to afford disowning you, too? So many years of careful maintenance raising the perfect successor to the family name, only to have all that time and effort irredeemably destroyed. It’s so easy for people to jump to conclusions based on what they see and hear and want to believe, don’t you think? And no matter what you said, it wouldn’t make a blind bit of difference. Others’ perception of you would be altered forever just because of a single moment in time.”
At last, his fingers slowly uncurled from the fabric of Erol’s shirt and he stood. His face burned with a combination of unnamed emotions that he didn’t bother attempting to identify just now. Sighing, he snatched up a stray napkin from another table and began to wipe up some of the spilled tea. “Just look what you made me do,” he murmured under his breath, righting the cups in their saucers and setting the tray aside.Elex steadied his expression in spite of the raised welts on his skin. He looked to his brother, to Sinope. His coal black gaze settled on Sinope. Sinope's story mutated irrevocably. What was once a straightforward charade now involved the fantastical. You're doing this because you want this meeting to go as badly as possible. Is it for attention, then? Do you want to be the talk of the town? Because you will be for quite some time, now.
You're drawing attention to an imminently-no-longer-missing person.
Nailed fingers drew from the tract of hurt to his lips, lingering there, dancing over ridges in thought. What's your aim? Are you trying to show that you're a threat? No -- I complied, and now this. Your actions were against me, not Erol. And now your story changes. I'm not the enemy anymore. How strange your loyalties are, Sinope. How strange and imperceptible. Fascinating.
Anger gave way to concern, then finally fear as Jack spouted talk of mirrors, of replacements. Erol's shoulders tensed with all the power of his muscle. He pushed desperately against the table while constrained to a fine, bony will. His collar promised him enough movement to look to his brother, however, who he questioned with urgency. "What the ******** is he going on about?" His mouth searched for broken words, his fingers for absent cigarettes. The grip spared him no quarter; he was trapped. Doomed. Whatever Jack spoke of, it was happening to Erol -- and soon. "Elex?"
Then came the threats, the ******** face-petting, the talk of being gay. Less fear dwelled here than in the fantastical world Jack spoke of moments earlier -- the very world he avoided for months now. He needed no further reminder of it; the twist of topic into his own life was very nearly a welcome change, were he not still powerless and emasculated. This ******** kid -- Furor stayed his tongue. Mentally he berated himself for lacking his brother's sharp wit in tense situations. He spat his answer with vehemence. "Yeah? Well, ******** you!" His face reddened, contorted into a snarl.
The passersby amassed in good number now, and Elex searched those in front of him. They looked intrigued, though some stood ready to action. Nerves settled in; he knew his chances of escape dwindled here. Thin bones and slight muscle promised no power. Sinope could take this situation where he wanted, draw it out for eternity, kill his brother outright, or escape all consequence with a slip of glamour. Each possibility stood on his side. But what power could Elex have? As a bystander to his own life once again, what power could he glean?
The words came with finality. "He's protecting me." He stepped toward Sinope, a slight hand finding the other boy's shoulder. Lips paused at the other boy's cheek with a message dispensed on intimacy. "Let him think what he wants. Let him leave." Elex counted on warm breath to draw any honest reaction -- gooseflesh, a blush, a look in his direction. The action mattered less than the implication. He drew away, though his hand remained behind.
Finally Erol was left to freedom, and he straightened his clothes at once. Never did his eyes leave Jack. Never did he comment on the large tea stains spreading over his leather jacket. "You're unbelievable. You're completely ******** unbelievable." He stepped back and back and back, until he joined the crowd, until he could trust the wall of gawkers to hide his retreat.
Elex kept his remarks quiet. He gathered his pocketwatch from the table. "We need to talk." His hand slipped from shoulder in a light beckon, then he departed for the alleyway beyond the scene.”Huh? ‘******** me’?” The teenage senshi glanced up briefly from his tidying to scoff at Erol’s passionate, if inane, retort. “That mean you’re gay after all?” He couldn’t help the jab, childish as he knew it was. Erol evoked his him the same feelings that his Romano’s bullies had and any opportunity to irritate them further was taken, no matter how petty. Somehow, though, the reminder that the younger Yorke was watching made him regret his behavior immediately.
His head swerved at Elex’s voice and he promptly found his peer close enough place a hand on his shoulder. His body must have remembered those slender hands closing around his neck, because his throat began to constrict and he had to swallow again. The action didn’t help as much as he’d hoped; breathing was becoming increasingly problematic. What the hell?! That was ages ago! I thought I’d gotten over this! he berated himself. I’m a super senshi now. I can handle him, especially while he’s like this. Calm the ******** down! This acting was supposed to be a trial for Elex, not him. Why was he having so much harder a time than the other teen?
Oh, right. He was raised to put on a mask and perform for audiences, Sinope recalled, wanting to beat his head against the nearest wall. All this time, he had been attempting to beat Elex at his own game and had only made a mess of things for both of them. What had he been thinking, venturing to improvise a role he knew nothing about? All he’d accomplished, likely, was demonstrating his incompetence, impulsiveness, and immaturity to the black-haired Negaverse officer. So much for having grown since he’d last seen the captain. It was as if he’d been given more power but robbed of common sense.
Speaking of being robbed of common sense, Sinope couldn’t fathom for the life of him what Elex was doing anymore. "Wait, what?" He blinked and stared at his peer as he approached and claimed he was being protected. "Me?" Evidently, Elex was taking the roles into his own hands. Typical. Even as a false civilian, he calmly wrested control of the situation. As badly as Sinope had convoluted everything, however, the senshi wasn't sure he had the will to stop him. It wasn't as if he had any better ideas.
And then he didn't have any ideas at all.
The lips on his cheek might as well have been coated in curare with how badly Sinope seized up. He shivered involuntarily despite his rising temperature, reddening complexion, and the heat of Elex's breath. His mind went numb and he didn't quite register the words spoken against his skin. Erol's attention, which had passed him by before but lingered on him now, no longer held value. The senshi stared glassily at some point in the distance, lips parted slightly in a dumbfounded look.
It was only when the hand left his shoulder that some feeling returned to his limbs and he was able to coax himself into turning to stare after Elex. He wants me to follow him, he thought vaguely, his brain gradually getting back into gear. Did he dare follow, though? He might try to kill me again, Sinope pondered, but the notion was devoid of emotion; only the most base instinct that being killed would be detrimental to his survival and was thus bad. Why did he do that?
As was the case lately with the sailor scout, curiosity won over fear and he wandered in leisurely pursuit of the dark-eyed young man as if in a trance.
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