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 Posted: Tue Oct 22, 2024 4:44 pm
a-disgruntled-dragon He sat on the rooftop, staring up at the star filled sky. Up there was Mars and the Spartan training facility that was supposedly his ‘wonder’. It was dead and silent and honestly? He never thought about it. He wasn’t ‘of Mars,’ he was a flesh and blood human who lived on Earth. The planet was the only supposedly inhabitable one of the solar system. Except, that wasn’t true given all the wonders, not to say anything of the supposed homeworlds of senshi. Also those aliens that now lived here too.
Sparta let out a long drawn out sigh and let his head fall back. How long had he been a page now? Six years? Ares, what was he even doing with his life. Parading around looking like a spartan reenactor, and taking on people way too strong for him? Yeah, that sounded about right. To say nothing of what he was doing in his normal, regular life. He’d gone to college, gotten some sort of associates degree, and then tried to take up MMA as a profession. That went as poorly as you could imagine. Turns out, he doesn’t like fighting for money! Oh he was great at it, don’t get him wrong, but he couldn’t get behind just slugging on someone for money.
Fighting the Negaverse, sure. He could do that! Okay, usually only if his own life was in danger but look, at least he tried to fight. Not that his little stick of a spear was particularly useful.
There was a flare of chaos behind him that was getting closer and Sparta couldn’t really bring himself to anything except pull his eyes from the stars to see who it was. If they wanted to fight, sure, he’d get up and fight. If they wanted to talk, he’d pat the roof next to him and talk.
If they wanted something else, well… he’d play it by ear. shiningamisgirl If there was one thing Albite believed he’d learned in his time spent serving the Earth? It was that agents who showed dedication and loyalty deserved the devotion of their superiors returned to them in equal measure. Ilmari had done nothing but that from the first moment they’d met. N’so it was easy to lend the Basic his time, to insist upon it, even. That they patrolled together in ways he didn’t often offer to do with the others— Most of the team? They hadn’t needed it; their extended time spent idling in second gear before ramping into third was all of their own doing. N’not at all for lack of merit, experience, for not having access to the kind of power that could be life saving when caught in a tight corner or down a dark alley. They were all smart, ambitious, hardly ever needed more n’a few persistent pokes, n’jokes, and maybe the occasional camping trip into the boonies? The singular yanking into a situation via *him* hauling on their collars – N’the next thing he knew? Eternals for miles, Generals for days – and Ilmari? He could see it in the Senshi’s eyes whenever he caught him in his periphery; so much endless potential packed into strappy garters n lacy thigh-high tights. That though Ilmari wore the title of chastity; with matching cute heart locks, in baby-blue and lavender shades. How it would’ve been a ******** crime to keep him in a position of subservience, relegated to the sole, slender walled box of ‘secretary’ for life. As much as he’d miss having Ilmari under him in a professional way? He believed with all of himself that the agent deserved far better n being just a basic! N’so the patrols—Stumbling on an aura and pulling up sharp, the way stepping through it felt like touching living static through a t.v screen, and had him circling back like a hound who’d caught the trail of some fresh new game— Those imprecise ******** fields of signals that always caught him off guard with their differences just as often as they did with their similarities! Order had a flavor to it – hair on end – lightning before a storm – petting the cat backwards kinda bullshit. But this one? It was spicy almost; reminded him of cold cuts and chipotle. There was a warm grit to it in his mind – it was – He knew it, he thought. Was ready to have Ilmari help him throw down if he was otherwise wrong; whistling sharp n short for Basics attention. A gleeful light in his eyes as he encouraged Ilmari to follow up nice n close while they encroached on a familiar back… And Waru clocked the slump of that spine from a distance, those too friendly eyes turning in their direction. The ease of it—Friendly. Familiar. Open. Sparta had always been these things to him, simple, easy going, large of heart as he was of godamn thigh and bicep. The vulnerability of it all irked him; here a man sat out alone with no one to guard his six, and no sandwich in hand, and no — He thought Sparta deserved the world, truly. To be swallowed by a thousand waiting arms, to be celebrated! And firmly held onto, never left to sit alone on a rooftop again! How the Knight of Mars deserved to be captured by the same warmth he emanated simply by existing, and then? Never, ever, ever let go. “Y’look so ******** alone t’night, Sparta.” Voice out of the shadows, and his magic itched to be used, the way it begged silently in his mind, the way it almost seemed to ripple along his exposed arms like a heatwave seen in the distance. There and gone, a trick of the eyes, wholly of the imagination. “Doesn’t he, ‘Mari?” Purred sideways, filled with play-along encouragement, a mock-sad tone. “I almost can’t stand t’see it anymore…” and how quickly that play turned serious, his smile a thin near-frown, and where his eyes had been soft for the Senshi at his side? There was a hardness in them when he turned that look onto the Page. A determination. Because he was, this time, determined. “The way you deserve so much better’n this…. m’thinkn its time…” amorremanet Patrolling with anyone was a privilege that Ilmari didn’t take lightly. Everyone else on Faustite’s team had been doing this for far longer than he had. Even Vesuvianite, whose current rank of Lieutenant put him effectively on the same level as Ilmari in terms of the hierarchy, had worked for the Negaverse longer, and he was probably due for a promotion soon. It may not have been necessary to recognize that seniority, but Ilmari liked to give Vesuvianite that respect anyway, liked to learn from his experience as Ilmari strove to learn from everyone’s.
Amidst all of the possible options for a patrol partner, Albite was a special treat. He was, after all, an Eternal senshi in his own right, and married to a General-Sovereign. Maybe he got into interpersonal messes sometimes, but that could happen to anybody, Ilmari figured, and matters that involved Boys could be impossibly complicated. It didn’t reflect negatively on Waru or on his work as Albite, or mean that any wisdom he wished to share was worth less. (And if Ilmari was, perhaps, a bit extra eager to accompany his most direct Boss on any given patrol and to make sure that Albite was doing alright after the mess at the Biolumina Club a few weeks prior, then that was between Ilmari and his autograph from the Chappell Roan meet-and-greet, before she’d stopped doing them because too many fans didn’t respect boundaries.)
Tonight, Ilmari had been sticking close to Albite’s side, and the presence of a White Moon aura made him more inclined to do so. True, they could (probably) handle someone who felt like they were on Ilmari’s power level without much difficulty, but in the face of an enemy, you needed to have each other’s backs. Even—or perhaps especially—when peering at said enemy revealed a handsome gentleman whose downcast expression didn’t quite match with how he’d dressed himself like he was either trying to be the biggest slut at the toga party (did people still have those? Ilmari hadn’t encountered one during his year-and-a-bit at DCU), or showing up to a bachelorette party in a more creative costume than “slutty cop.”
—Ah, but Albite knew this one. Probably not Biblically, Ilmari figured, but well enough for Albite to have some kind of game in mind. One that he wanted to invite Ilmari into, and Ilmari smiled, eager to join.
“He does seem terribly lonely,” Ilmari said, stepping out from the vicinity of Albite’s shadow so that the Page—Sparta, apparently—could see him, and politely waving at Sparta. Ilmari still stuck close to Albite, but the more visible he was, the less likely they were to attract any unfair accusations of approaching this conversation with untoward intentions. “It’s really a shame that the others on your side leave so many people like you to figure things out on their own. Treating you all as disposable, you hate to see it.”
Maybe Ilmari didn’t know this Page from a hole in the wall, but Albite did. Everyone who stood with Order probably deserved better—at least, they did until they proved themselves too messy and too Not Demure like certain Murikabushis whom Ilmari preferred to remain nameless—and if Albite thought that Sparta was especially deserving of better, then Ilmari trusted that. He’d follow Albite’s lead backwards into Hell if necessary. a-disgruntled-dragon His fingers twitched against the rooftop as a second aura flared from behind Albite, but he didn’t make a move to summon his spear or get up. He just looked at the two senshi from upside down teal eyes and snorted. The one Albite called ‘Mari’ seemed to have the right of it; Order really did just sort of… leave it’s chosen to ‘figure it out’. He glanced between the pair for a moment and shrugged his shoulders as much as his breastplate would allow.
“I’ve been a Page for six ********’ years, didja know that, Albite? Six ********’ years and all I have to show for it is that I tried to punch a General once during that operation you ******** pulled with the Vanguard,” he said, waving a hand in the air dismissively. “Not ********’ once has the Code, or Mars, or my Wonder gone ‘hey dude, good job! Have an actual weapon now!’ It’s just all ….”
Sparta sighed, teal eyes pulling away from the tattoos that curled over Albite’s arms and along the narrow curve of his waist to stare at the sky. He reached a hand up, as though he could touch the stars above him.
“Silent. All ********’ silent.”
The hand clenched into a fist and he dropped it with a thud to the rooftop. He breathed out through his nose and stood, turning to face the two senshi proper. Albite was tall, a good half a head taller than Sparta was - and Sparta was not a snort man by any means. Gods above, he had no right to look that hot just standing there. Ilmari next to him was shorter, and he almost thought he was a girl at first due to the fuku and long hair. He’d apologize but, eh, just correct himself in his head and be done with it. He was cute, kinda like Oceana was, but taller, and there was something about seeing him in a crop top and skirt that made Sparta incredibly interested to see just what was under the skirt.
Because why not appraise two very attractive men when they were either here to kill him, capture him, or worse, right? He’d apologize to Oceana later, probably. Maybe. If he was still alive.
“Only thing I’ve ever figured out in the last six years is that some of you aren’t as bad as we’re led to believe, I fight people three times my ability, and that the cosmos only replies to you when it is in need, not when you are.” The amount of times he’d been pulled to space by the Code, or Sailor Cosmos, or random unaffiliated powers had only solidified that sense in him over the years.
What was he even fighting for anymore? It certainly wasn’t a dead princess or Cosmos or himself.
“You all always seem so well organized; never know why we’re actually fighting you except ‘ancient evil’ and all that. Anyways, besides commenting on my loneliness, whacha here for, Albite?”
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Posted: Tue Oct 22, 2024 4:47 pm
shiningamisgirl “M’here cause sometimes? I feel the exact same way—” Honesty as an answer, and he would’ve fought for the thrill of it; just to see the endless cycle turning on, but never the way anyone seemed to want him to? That total annihilation of all life was another's dream. One that had no place in this — a war that didn’t feel like a war anymore – that’d grown stale – and cast out fresh bodies and eager minds the likes of Sparta. If any Page had been his own to command? If he was in Orders place and Sparta was theirs? “Cause sometimes– it’s not the cause? When one n the other’s the ********’ same looking from both sides. S’the leadership behind it…and I can’t imagine what it’s like to be ********’ held to a world at knight-point, one whose Senshi is – nowhere – Jeeze, I’d always ********’ hoped for…hell…something? For you. For them? That the emptiness was just a lie – that it could be overcome somehow? But then I saw your wonder n’I just…” he’d ached for sparta, it was true, for all that he’d tried to make a good time of their visit? To have fun with even the most desolate, dust-barren places known to beast and man and enjoy the red-rusticness of a far harsher landscape than he’d ever known here on Earth. He’d tried! He hadn’t known all of this though, the languishing, the anguish beyond it combined with the way Sparta wanted for more and had kept hope all this time that the ‘more’ would come! There was the urge to fix it; fix it now, fix it quickly! Trading glances with Ilmari before his gaze settled once again on the despondent Page, his frown deepening slightly. “N’I’m here for you, Sparta. The way any good friend should be in your time of need…yeah? Or did you think I only wanted you for the free eye candy n good eats…” a soft chuckle, an appreciative smile, he took a few paces carefully closer with Ilmari at his side, couldn’t help the swell of gratefulness in his chest at how well the other Senshi handled – ******** – this? Everything! Adaptive and cunning, picking up the crumbs he laid out without missing a smartly heeled step or blinking ********’ brilliant this one— “Hey, Ilmari? C’n you make a call for me – you’re the best by the way,” careful drawl accompanied by a less than subtle wink, what he threw Ilmari as he hedged a bet with barbed wire meant to snare forever. “We’re gonna get our boy here, someone who cares so ********’ much! Heh, so, so much – that he’s practically glowing with it.” As if to make it clear as a single pane of freshly windexed glass who *exactly* he was speaking of. While adding on the barest of nods as another little go-ahead. Because in his own mind? Sparta deserved far better than six years a wandering servant to a dead god and an empty colosseum. Albite couldn't peer into such stunning teal hues; those soulful windows arched in sorrow, and abandon the brick body of a lonely house they were set into. The decision he’d made in a split second, while still taking it all in, was that he wouldn’t be leaving Sparta to traipse rooftops and grasp at dirties that ignored pleas so heartfelt as this! Not when there was something he could do about it. amorremanet Albite’s rapport with the Page attracted a slightly raised brow out of Ilmari, but he quickly tamed that expression back into polite, respectful interest. A soft smile that wanted to hear this all out and trusted his Boss to have some idea what he was doing, even if Albite didn’t make it entirely, immediately apparent and/or wound up improvising somewhat. What Sparta had to say about his situation did get Ilmari to frown, but it was out of discontent with the way that, per Sparta, Order handled its people, and something like compassion for the man, for what he’d gone through and how little his efforts had been appreciated.
Not that Ilmari personally condoned punching a General, but it sounded like the sort of thing in which Order nominally would have taken an interest and seen some value. Whatever “the Code” was, it couldn’t possibly be doing right by its Knights if it didn’t award promotions for the sheer nerve that it took a Page to go all out and punch someone so much more powerful and better supported than the Page themself.
“Absolutely, Boss,” Ilmari said, pulling out his tablet pen at Albite’s request. With an eager smile, as the pen’s purple crystal sparkled in the ambient light from the moon and the city around them, he looked to Sparta. “All of this sounds terrible, and Albite’s right: you do deserve better than what you’ve been through before. Don’t worry. We’re gonna call someone who has exactly what you need, who knows how to take care of people in your sort of situation.”
A quick twirl of the pen, and Ilmari spoke clearly into the crystal: “Faustite, sir, it’s Ilmari. Albite and I have a Page who’s been left behind by Order. If you have the time, we’d like to offer him something better.” Strickenized Something better, the boy had said. That wasn't saying much; Faustite would be hard-pressed to think of things that were worse than Order. Only reason he ever considered joining them was due to his slow death, but even at that, his allegiance remained with the Negaverse.
So what would be better than remaining with the group that left this Page behind? Death, he supposed. Or joining the Negaverse. Really, they could've meant either one. Best to come prepared.
Ilmari did not receive a response, for it was one of the times when Headache had to return to the Rift. There would be answer in action, instead, when Faustite's deleterious aura choked the area upon his entry from nowhere. He wore his sovereign's regalia, knowing full well that either outcome to their chance encounter would demand such power.
What he hadn't expected was the setup. The Page in question was unrestrained, simply left to sit idly on the rooftop with his back to the pair-turned-trio. Faustite was beginning to feel a margin insulted. Did Albite and Ilmari drag him out to some willing turncoat? Where the ******** was the fun in that? Surely Albite knew by now that if he found someone that was begging to join the Negaverse, he should call Jet or Axinite instead? That was a job for a lighter touch.
With a resigned sigh, Faustite tapped Waru on the shoulder blade. Once the boy turned to look at him, he signed, Cremation or corruption?
His shotel hung heavy at his side, volcanic glass blade maliciously polished should he need to cleave the life from this one's bones. a-disgruntled-dragon Sparta raised a brow at Albite’s words. He was here… for him? Like, don’t get him wrong, he’d climb that man without a second thought. He was hot and taller than him, so of course he’d climb him like a tree. But something felt… off, about how Albite had said it. Ilmari talked into some sort of pen, and he felt a lick of dread curl in his stomach. Something… better? Just what did Albite mean by that, and why did he suddenly feel like prey being stalked.
It took very little time for him to find out.
Faustite’s aura made Sparta stagger and reflexively summon his weapon this time. The Page took a step or two back from the pair of senshi, eyes trained on the literal General Sovereign standing just behind Albite. Did he have a grate in place of his stomach? Was he actually smoldering as he signed to the tall senshi? The spear came up slowly between them, falling into muscle memory at the sudden and overwhelming Chaos that rolled like smoke off of Faustite.
How could an aura almost choke you, when it’s owner hadn’t even touched you?
The dread in his stomach blossomed as panic settled in his chest. It was one thing to fight a General or Eternal Senshi. It was another thing entirely for him to fight a General King, flanked by two of his own senshi. Oh ********. He actually was going to die, especially with a weapon like that.
The Page of Mars took another step back, closing in on the edge of the roof. “Dude… Albite, bro, this is great and all but… that’s… that’s a General Sovereign. I think… I think maybe I should… go?” he said, voice cracking as fear crept up his throat. He really didn’t want to die, and that whole ‘let’s see what's in store’ thing? Yeah, no, he’s seen enough he can go now!
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Posted: Tue Oct 22, 2024 4:51 pm
shiningamisgirl “Atta-boy, Mari. Now watch this,” a quick husk of praise murmured to the blond just before the cavalry came flaring in; all sharp bits, heat, and regalia. Looking just a touch peeved, if the weight of that sigh was any indication? He took it all in stride, the press of claws that drew his gaze sideways, quickly reading the flicker of two words. Succinct as ******** always, their king, and Waru’s one talent was being able to talk with his eyes full! “S’ah Greater General Husband, actually…” a rough chuckle as he answered Sparta aloud, uncaring if the man would remember his little quip later. He was too focused on watching with a prideful grin as the Mars Page pulled up, exactly like he’d said he could. With that spear out, and nerves going, and biceps bulging — ready to throw down as to run – impressive as ******** without trying! Albite could believe this man had fought a General, likely punched above his own weight class on the regular. N’that exact kind of ambition? That fearlessness? That s**t deserved a reward of a different kind, rather than to be wasted on Order for a single nother second of a single nother day. “But I suppose, for you? He will be ‘King’, huh Sparta?” He didn’t comment on the Pages desire to go, if anything? He looked amused by the suggestion, like he would’ve wished Sparta good luck if he’d tried! While shifting his full attention to the burning threat at his side. “He wants t’get bent–” mimicking the sign for corruption and bastardizing it to his own personal liking. He wanted Sparta ‘corrupted’, and his own fingers hovered above the glaring hole in his chest briefly, reflecting on some distant memory like it was a warm thing, one that inspired fondness rather than pain and terror. “You’ll like him — I want him.” He didn’t think he needed to say more, could let his own excitement speak for itself, his endless grin and the brightness in his eyes. The way his words would sound so easily like a claim; here stood the doggy in the window he’d picked out – and along with that? A leash, a collar, a new name tag. Everything could be ready at a moments notice, the snap of Faustites fingers— Albite would never have to worry about Sparta being alone, ever again. amorremanet Watching Faustite and Albite sign to each other, Ilmari made a mental note to look into ASL classes on campus, or possibly at one of the community centers around town. The other languages he’d studied before remained useful in their own rights, yes, but as seen tonight, Headache couldn’t always be present to communicate on Faustite’s behalf. Still, Albite gave enough context vocally for Ilmari to get the general idea of what was probably being said.
What attracted a bemusedly wrinkled nose was not the signing between senior officer husbands but the Page seeming to either do some mental calculus about what he’d gotten himself into, or to have potential second thoughts about the whole thing. Focusing on Sparta, Ilmari shrugged as if to say “This is what you said you wanted, right?”—and obviously, it had to have been. Everything Sparta had complained about experiencing with Order—getting left behind, his need to figure things out on his own without any real support, nobody appreciating his efforts or giving him his due flowers for hard work dutifully performed—could be set right by joining up with the Negaverse. They did things differently there.
“This might be your first time hearing such advice,” Ilmari told the Page, not quite gently but still more compassionate than not, “but take a deep breath. Relax. This might be uncomfortable, but everything will go so much easier for you if you relax.”
Not that Ilmari knew from personal experience. He’d been perfectly willing, when Haymitch had found him. But he’d heard talk around the Dark Kingdom, debates among other junior officers about the pros and cons of willing vs. forced corruption. Seemed better for everyone to give Sparta some advice that (hopefully) might help him avoid some of the distinctly less pleasant potential side-effects of this process. Strickenized His attention flickered to the Page when the boy drew some primitive knight's weapon on him. Pointed the thing like it would somehow save his life — somehow drive distance between himself and the sworn enemy. Faustite smiled at him, teeth showing in a malevolent manner.
He let Albite have his exchange with the Page. His attention returned to his husband once he was willing to explain the idea for calling him out here, and all he got for it was that Albite wanted this one. Once again, his burning gaze landed on the Page. There was little to tell about him with all the ******** armor, but he wore such a short skirt and he had the lack of sense enough to draw a weapon on his betters. Must've reminded Albite of himself: self-preservation never made it into his vocabulary.
He shot Albite a seething glance. Filthy, he mouthed to his boy with a shake of his head.
After hearing Ilmari speak, Faustite made a mental note to explain to Ilmari that encouraging them to accept their fate only made it less fun for him as a Sovereign. He liked it when they struggled, begged and bled, for his hands were not the kind and gentle grasp that poured Chaos as if from a ewer. His was more akin to tossing a starseed into a blackened inferno. No measure of relaxation prepared anyone for that.
It was a cute thought, though. Faustite could admit that. It went along with Albite's wishes well enough.
Faustite wrapped a hand around the end of Sparta's spear, deliberate in his slowness. While he watched the Page's expression, he angled the tip of the weapon down, down, down, until it pointed directly at the ravening fire in his gut. Then he stepped forward, foot by careful foot, as the weapon passed the gap in his grate, as it just passed his spine, as it began to smolder and catch the flame that surrounded it so. He walked forward until the Page was within easy reach, one hand always holding fast to the weapon.
Struggle, he mouthed to the much taller boy. Without taking his eyes off of him, Faustite's free hand darted into his chest with purpose, seeking to clutch that starseed tight and devour it in irresistible, malevolent Chaos. a-disgruntled-dragon His eyebrows shot almost to his hairline at the comment of ‘General Husband’ and he glanced between Faustite and Albite. Watched the corrupt point at the hole in his chest, and the absolutely sinful way that Albite went ‘I want him’. Heat shot down his spine, pooling low against all rational thought.
There were thoughts going on, he was sure of it. His brain was working overtime, but Sparta couldn’t say what those thoughts actually were. It was all static, a roar of blood in his ears broken only by the thudding of his heart.
Ilmari told him to relax, that it would be easier if he did, and all he got in response was an incredulous teal stare of ‘seriously?? relax??’ His eyes snapped back to Faustite as the shorter man began to walk towards him.
Heat laced with fear, and not a small amount of terror, licked down his spine again as the General King slowly wrapped his hand around his spear. He watched, unable to do anything else, as he slowly brought it down to the grate in his stomach and then pushed it in. He watched it disappear and burn inside the fire as Faustite approached with slow and steady feet. He couldn’t look away, even as he shifted his hands further and further back on the spear until it was all but consumed.
He dragged his eyes up to Faustite’s face when the man stopped, and saw the word mouthed at him. Confusion tinged his features at the word.
Then a hand was inside of him and gripping his very being with the full force of Chaos behind it.
Sparta screamed, body shuddering at the sudden intrusion of energy. He grabbed at Faustite’s arm and face, trying to push him away, trying to get him to stop, trying to stem the flow of roiling fire in his chest. Agony shot down his spine, spidering out down his limbs and across his chest. The Chaos burned an inferno through him, consuming every bit that Order had forgotten.
His vision went white with the pain and fire, his body spasming around the hand in his chest.
Behind the burn came a delicious feeling of power that curled in his mind, promising him that which Order had denied. It caressed him, teasing him, guiding him to a level of euphoria he hadn’t known was possible. All it requested in return was his service - oh he could absolutely serve - and his experiences as Sparta. A small price to pay for falling over the edge.
(Chaos left the memories with Albite in them, either as an afterthought or due to who was doing the corruption.)
Ares, he felt so full. Not quite satiated, but full and content.
Yet, the Chaos kept coming. No, he was too full of it, he couldn’t handle anymore! He’d certainly burst into flames if Faustite didn’t stop! There was too much, there was too much there was—
A gift… for your future service… Litharge…
Power exploded in his chest and the young man let out a groaning yell. Chaos rippled through him in one final surge, leaving no Page of Mars standing. The man slammed his weapon into the roof, scythe blade flickering with phantom flames, to steady himself.
In its place, stood a Captain of the Negaverse, the only reminder of the broken and fractured symbols of Mars on his jacket buttons.
“... ********… that was…” he said breathlessly, doing his best to not just collapse on his General King.
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Posted: Tue Oct 22, 2024 4:54 pm
shiningamisgirl “It was everything, wasn’t it? The barest tip of ********’ more and it’s bottomless—” like he was making a promise, his excitement had been a held breath that all came out in a rush of words, an exhilarated heave of energy barely held at a still point. Even standing on the edges of all that power; a ******** thrill ride — a rollercoaster — watching a man go under and wondering who or what would resurface again!! If there’d even be any man left at all— He wasn’t sure what was better, watching Fasustite at work? Watching the Page he’d once called Sparta succumb to a chaos born fire that flared so hotly it’d burned all that Order right off of his very bones! Albite thought it left the man looking better in every sense; clothed, armed, aura’d! Theirs. Ours. Mine. Done up like a present, shined up, made sharp. Wearing what were some of Albites favorite colors! And those ******** pants— “Doesn’t our brother in arms look so much ********’ better like this!” He licked his lips, staring shamelessly, rocking on thick heels. “We’re gonna take *such* good care of you! Heh, you don’t even know..…” The only problem with spurr of the moment ideas? Least so far as Albite saw it to be a problem. Was needing to have plans after the moment had stopped being exactly that. Albite suddenly found himself glancing haplessly at Ilmari with pretty please lash flutters, hands clasped, n all. Asking for backup without wanting to necessarily say the words aloud. It wouldn’t do to look so completely incompetent in the first five minutes! That s**t was like….a twenty four hours down the road kinda reveal….a next day at your front door task… He had to at least give their new Captain time to adjust!! To himself. To the negaverse, to the team? Had to learn the Captains new name? (********, a name!) Wrangle an identity – (holy s**t, paperwork!?) Make sure the man had a place to live where he could come n go and not get eaten on site…Least till he got his feet under him! Teleportation training — the works! Preferably somewhere the wild youma n feral bits; like pinky pie n squingy mc’ceiling youma wouldn’t be tempted as much as they usually were. They needed time (their Kings orders) t’learn the house guests from the hors d'oeuvres. Which whores belonged in the home and which were late night snacks. They had a really firm ‘no solicitors’ policy… Albite liked it that way. The little safe haven they’d built in the underdark, beneath the watchful and protective claws of — the one being he could turn his sharklike hunger soft for, the King he felt like he owed a thousand ruinous kisses too for indulging him in this! Such a ******** gift!“But you will know—won’t he Ilmari? Cause we’re gonna show him.” amorremanet Incredulity made sense enough—too many guys underestimated the wisdom of “Try to relax” as advice, in any situation—and Ilmari met Sparta’s pointed look with one of his own. A shrug and a slight roll of the eyes as if to say “Suit yourself, then.” If he wanted to make things more difficult for himself, then that was his own choice and he had to be allowed to make it. Faustite didn’t seem to mind at any rate.
Watching him work Sparta over certainly was a pleasure—though not one Ilmari could allow himself to enjoy too much. Enough to appreciate the way that Sparta’s body reacted to the influx of Chaos, the way that he tried to push Faustite off of him but must not have put in the right amount of effort, but the scream out of the Page let Ilmari know not to get lost in the moment. Letting Albite enjoy the full spectacle, Ilmari perked up on alert, felt his aura senses to ensure that nobody had come with a mind to mount a rescue (thankfully, no), checked around all the blind spots he could think of (including looking over the edge of the roof, at the street below) to make sure that no one unpowered was around to hear Faustite’s work, either.
Thankfully, they all dodged that bullet, too. Maybe checking wasn’t the most important or necessary thing, but Faustite and the Page were quite busy, and Albite seemed intensely invested in the process, in watching this specific Page’s corruption. If someone came along and interrupted, that could have ruined everything. Better safe than sorry, Ilmari figured.
But the night was good to them, and as he returned to Albite’s side from double-checking their surroundings, Ilmari took a good, long look at the newly minted Captain before him. “The new uniform is quite impressive,” Ilmari agreed, giving the new Captain a small, more genuine smile. “There will be some work to get him situated in the new identity, but it shouldn’t be difficult. Albite and Faustite’s home in the sunken city is quite lovely, Captain. Or if you’d prefer somewhere topside to stay, my place has plenty of room and only one other housemate.
“That being Vesuvianite,” he added, looking to Albite and Faustite. “He moved in recently. If our new teammate prefers to stay somewhere in Destiny City, he’ll have two of us there to help support him and help him adjust to his new life. Most of our neighbors mind their own business, as well, so it hopefully wouldn’t be too stressful.”
Considering some of the nonsense that the HOA could get up to and some of the gossipy members of its board, they could end up noticing how Baz had ostensibly acquired two new housemates in quick succession, one of whom could have had a promising career as a stripper or bachelor(ette) party entertainer if he wanted. But if that became an issue, Baz would simply need to press the right social buttons and ruin a few lives to keep them all from bothering his teammate.
For now, though, Ilmari turned his attention back to the brand new Captain. “Regardless of where you’d like to stay, one of our team’s Mauvians and I can help you get set up as a civilian. Whenever you’re ready, they’re only a call away.”
Ilmari was ready to call Magnus or Haymitch right now, but the new Captain had dealt with a full-force infusion of Chaos. Perhaps better to let him set the speed here, and to give him time if he wasn’t up for such paperwork tonight. Strickenized Faustite took the new Captain's jaw in his hand, turning the boy's head this way and that as if inspecting him like a piece of meat. Then he took in the weapon, the outfit, the boots, the changes. He nodded succinctly. He signed at Albite without looking: He'll do.
Then he held up a finger when Ilmari spoke up. Want his memory checked first, he informed Albite. See what he does and doesn't remember. Make sure he knows not to reconnect with family or friends. Assuming he remembers them at all.
He let his shoulders relax, breathing out the last of the exhilaration that came with each corruption. There would be questions now. Fine details that needed working out among them. For once, it wasn't his job to derive a new identity for someone and commit to the work of getting them situated. That was all Albite — and Ilmari — and, Faustite wagered, that meant mostly Ilmari. Albite just had to sign off on whatever final product came of it, and the boy would be well taken care of on the team.
The name for this boy was like an instinct — not something to be derived out of searching an endless database. He couldn't convey the pronunciation, but he could at least fingerspell the new Captain's name for his boy.
L - I - T - H - A - R - G - E, he rendered in the air slowly.
Turning back to the new Captain, he spread his arms wide in a grandiose bow, bending at the hips, to welcome him to the Negaverse properly. a-disgruntled-dragon He felt a little like a piece of meat, with Faustite turning his head back and forth to inspect him. Litharge watched him nod, wondering if he made the cut or anything. The cut for what, he’d be honest, he wasn’t sure. He remembered… sort of feeling listless, and talking with Albite, and pain - but the rest was pretty hazy or just… not there. Whatever it was, it couldn’t have been too important if he couldn’t remember, though not really knowing how the last two decades had gone was a little disorienting.
He watched closely as Faustite finger spelled his name for him and he nodded. “Litharge. Got it, sir,” he said with a smile and gave a bow of his own. He glanced at Albite and Ilmari, who’d offered assistance with getting settled and a new identity.
“I… think I have an apartment? Is it normal to forget if you have a place you rent?” he asked with a chuckle, deep voice vibrating in his chest. The power in his veins rumbled with the sound and titans did it feel good. It felt so good to have power and to not feel… weak? Insignificant? Useless? The high from the corruption was fading, but the afterglow still lingered in his fingers and chest.
Man, Ezra would kill to hear about this whole experience.
“I… probably can’t go back to my boyfriend, can I?” The words came out of his mouth before he could really stop them and he blinked. He knew he had a boyfriend, but couldn't for the life of him remember what he looked like. “At least…. I think I had one. Not that I can remember what he looked like though.”
Litharge chuckled in his confusion and shrugged his shoulders. Clearly things hadn’t been great if he was out here with these three very hot men after all.
“I’ll take ya up on that new identity and living situation, Ilmari."
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Posted: Tue Oct 22, 2024 4:56 pm
shiningamisgirl “He’s perfect!” growled gratitude, and he was practically bouncing on his well worn heels as Faustite laid out orders in a quick succession of fingers, beaming as the man-a-flame spelled the Spartans new moniker out nice and slow enough for all to follow. Letter by enticing letter. Albite was sooo, sooo, sooo overjoyed! It took – ******** – every fibre of his being to not just bowl Faustite over in a leap and thank him the way he really wanted to! Later, later, later— the work comes first this *one* time. “Oh— Litharge—” he liked the name, the way it rolled off his tongue like a roughly abused purr of warm notes. How he wanted to tell the forlorn looking man that while he couldn’t go back to where he’d come from? There was always a way forward. That Litharge could always bring whoever he wanted *here* to *them* and they would swaddle the new person into their cause with loving, open arms. That if Litharge wanted, still? When all the T’s were crossed and I’s dotted– Once he’s proven himself loyal to my liking–That the man could probably even do it himself after a fashion? Why not bring in a boyfriend – his entire family – if such existed. As though the negaverse was a catch-all for the lost, unwanted, and wayward dredges of societal outcasts. A pedestal for the powerless and half-starved to stand on. This vast, unending ladder into the deepest depths, fun as it was to climb down as it was terrible to fall from… “We’ll get to that, yeah? Maybe not tonight, n’not out here on some random-a** rooftop, but between Ilmari, n our cats, n I? We will get there. I promise you that, right Ilmari?” Clasping the sweet blond with quick wit on the shoulder before stepping up close to his flaming Greater General King, basking in that warmth as he was appraising Litharge all on his own. Wide auburn eyes caught on the long scythe, the pitch dark clothing, trimmed in red to match his favorite husbands colors— “After all? You’re a brother after my own heart! So you pack alluv that worry away n’let us get’chu unstranded. We’ll make sure n get’chu thoroughly checked over – top to bottom – inside n out – kay, Mari?” passing Faustites words along more cryptically, because they would go through the man's memories, flush out what remained, shove deeply under a rug what was lost. They’d done it before now hadn’t they? So many times, enough that he knew for Ilmari who was by the book and head over heels for knowing the written rule what a good experience this would be! That with the blond as backup he wouldn’t slip up the way he had so often before – there would be no repeats as poorly gone as Lysithea, where he felt he’d misstepped at every turn. No, not with this one. Not his precious new brother Litharge. amorremanet Ilmari’s initial, instinctive response was that no, it did not sound particularly normal to forget somewhere you had once lived……but he did have to concede that he didn’t rightly know—which he did by shrugging at Litharge once more and giving him an expression that quite plainly spelled out as much. Not having been forcibly corrupted himself, there was much that Ilmari didn't really know about the process. Tonight presented a perfect opportunity to learn, though, and he appreciated that.
Corruption affected the memory. Good to know for the future, whenever he next got the opportunity to assist with an induction like this. After all, not everyone on the White Moon’s side could be some sanctimonious idiot who would have preferred death with “honor” to, you know, simply not dying by joining up with the winning team. Some of them would have the brains to swap sides—or else be brought in whether the liked it or not; Faustite was uniquely equipped for those situations—and it would likely be in Ilmari’s best interests to be prepared for those cases.
“Whatever you don’t remember, it sounds as though it wasn’t important enough to trouble yourself over too much,” Ilmari told Litharge, more or less sympathetically. More or less gently. A cool balm to the whole situation, considering that Litharge had been brought in by someone who was actively on fire and recruited by someone who came on very strong in most situations. Looking up to Albite, doe eyes innocent as a cabbage, Ilmari added, “If you wouldn’t mind getting us back to Negaspace, Boss? Considering Litharge is a fresh recruit and I can’t teleport yet? I’ll happily put in the call to Haymitch and Magnus, then escort Litharge to the med-bay for an examination.
“After that, we can go home, Captain. I’ll get a house key made for you first thing in the morning.” He paused a moment, then gave Litharge a small smile, almost shy. “Welcome to the team, Litharge. I do hope you’ll find us more supportive than you found Order, and that we will provide for you, however you need.” Strickenized [Bullshit, he turned and signed at Ilmari. Then he glanced to Albite, pouting a margin petulantly as he asked a furtive question: Am I chopped liver?
He didn't think so. He wasn't a moment ago, when Albite was calling him out to upend some feckless Page's unfortunate life.
With a huff, Faustite snapped his fingers for the attention of all, then he blinked the lot of them out of Destiny City entirely. [ Fin ]
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