EREBOS

Erebos wasn’t sure of many things. He didn’t know how he’d become a master of battle after he was so easily defeated. He didn’t know how he’d conquer the painted monster if he couldn’t bludgeon a smaller opponent. He didn’t know if his aspirations were made of tangible things or unattainable desires – and perhaps the latter was what hurt him the most: what if all his zeal, hunger, and resolve was never truly feasible? What if he labored, fought, bit, tore, and carved for nothing? What if he was never meant to conquer and vanquish?
 
With his confidence rattled, determination faltered, arrogance damaged, the boy had begun to alter his course. Ever so slowly, he thought of calculations instead of outright authority. He pondered over methods instead of domination. He wandered amongst thresholds of deceit, instead of complete supremacy. The Sun God had told him his enchantments, his distortions, and his dreams wouldn’t be enough – everything would have to come together, to meld, mold, and claim what he craved.
 
But still, that little notion of power drew him down corridors, avenues, and hallways, tracing the outline of his fire like a belligerent blaze, courting him into its fervent flames, its bestial embers, until all he saw was possibility. There were chances, realms of opportunities and instances where he could still be crowned the vengeful prince, the vindictive scion, and while he wandered through the shadows of the Ancient Rotunda, his eyes locked onto their next opening.
 
There, flecked and gilded in gold, was Rexanna.
 
He was wholly ignorant of her except of her placing, her stature, within their kingdom. She was loyal, she was true, and she wandered amongst thresholds, hilltops, and valleys. But perhaps instead of fighting monsters in the dark, instead of deluding himself into harpooning the unknown, he could invite her to practice, to skirmish, to one of the most archaic forms of existence. Would it be safer then, to go after what he knew, instead of friends masquerading as fiends? Or would he fall apart again, be weak, diminished, and pathetic?
 
Orsino hissed at the notion, because that was what the child had shown him: vulnerability, incapacity, and floundering. Now wasn’t the time to grow deficient.
 
The blue lad maneuvered past the old, marbled columns, sliding beyond shadows, kaleidoscope hues, and porcelain remnants, slinking down the steps and out into the garden exterior, listening to the winds whip past plumes, blossoms, and the stream, calling to the femme lacquered amongst the lilies. “Rexanna!” He hoped his voice would reach her, and when he feared it did not, he pressed on, raising the pitch to a bellow, enticing, tempting, and scorching. “Would you like to spar?”


[0/3. 449 words. Erebos vs. Rexanna Teaching Spar.
Timeline: Normal
Setting: Ancient Rotunda – mid-morning, high winds, end of Tallsun, so not extremely hot.
You may have first attack. I’ll have teaching notes up after your first post. ^_^]