I've let myself be forgotten— I've faded into the background, stepped off of my podium and let the world fall apart without any effort on my behalf (huh, that was easy). A benevolent god has risen from the ashes of beasts, a collection of various bones wearing the skin of a deity, leaving terror in its wake. And Helovia (hah)? It kept going, it acted like this demon was not rooting itself in the land, as if it hadn't planted a shrine, hadn't become a prominent power— malevolent as it crept along in the shadows, entangled its gnarled fingers into the dirt and flesh of Helovia, clung to the life force and took power where it could find it.

I watched from afar, I witnessed its work, the shrine that sits so hauntingly in the recently cleared Marshes, the heavy air surrounding it deterring me from getting any closer than I needed. I breezed past it only twice, because I could never linger there for long enough without feeling the blackness choking me, inhaled and crushing my lungs as I only stood helplessly (what good am I?). I have come too close to blacking out there, to slipping into the cold, thick black waters and letting the tainted swamp take me in, just letting it happen and doing lite to fight back (it's always so tempting).

But I don't, and I never will, let that need take me.

Instead, I search for good dick, because we all know that the one real cure to unshakable sorrow is a reaaal nice dicking. And that's what I set out on, a desperate mess looking for a good time, trying to drown the fear of failure beneath lustful moans and false smiles. I would get what I wanted, greedily desiring more than just a moment of passion and then fated goodbye— it wouldn't be a hit and quit, but a little more (I'm not talking about a lasting relationship here though, you psycho, I'm just so horny I might cum twice).

So I search for whoever I can grab, whoever I can mesmerize with swinging hips and mischievous grins, fleeting glances and rising tails. Who will it be? Bubblegum eyes track movement carefully, looking over each body with thoughtful consideration as I walk. Rejection isn't something I'll accept, even though there's always a chance of it happening, but with enough convincing I'm sure I could melt any man (drink me!)— they won't be able to resist me.

I bounce playfully as I trudge through the Threshold, the anticipation of stumbling upon that perfect man, lost and alone here in these foreign woods, the perfect place to scoop someone up for the night. What I'm not expecting, as I parade so confidently about between the trees, is to spot a black body I almost fail to recognize. The double take is immediate and rushed, almost in disbelief as I creep closer, terrified to be wrong, but also hoping I am.

I'm not.

"Szar!" The word comes out in a hushed hiss, ears falling back as I pick up my pace without hesitance, focused on the snaking ivory spine that makes its way up the back of the man boy before me. I almost want to just shout right there, but there's nothing for me to say to him (why the fuck are you running then?). I hadn't spoken to Zhu since our— run in in the Threshold (oh, what a coincidence), not quite sure how to speak to him now that I've gotten what I wanted out of him.

It had been, a peculiar encounter (his first?), one where I was still stinking like post sex, the smell of another man so obviously rubbed against my sticky skin as I ran up on Zhu— and it fell into banter, as it always does, but then, more. It was angry and rough, not passionate and sweet or timid and attentive the way stallions typically treat me (honestly, I'm not a delicate pansy! They can be harsh with me!). Once it was done, it was done, and we parted ways without so much as another word, and I could not complain. But what crossed my mind later, was the idea that we were blood, and that perhaps that wasn't the best thing for us to have done. But I liked it, so fuck it, right? It was such a bad thing, so morally wrong, but it had felt so good. And maybe that's just my sex addiction talking, but it fucking rocked.

I clear my throat beside Zhu, bubblegum eyeing his stiffened body as he exhales deeply, as though something is applying serious pressure to his body. A dark brow rises, questioning the way he stands only feet past Helovia's border, wondering if he had just entered. "Hol voltál?" The question comes out far more demanding than I had anticipated, rolling off of my tongue and resonating in my throat. I don't think my voice has ever boomed so much, has ever been so deep as I addressed anyone (am I just not used to hearing myself talk anymore?). I think I should be cracking a sheepish smile as I admire the way my voice sounds, how it sounds like the voice of a king. "Futottál el, mint egy csecsemő?" I crack a grin then, a corner upturned as pink eyes twinkle, teasing the younger boy as if it was second nature to me (it might as well be). I don't expect an answer (one that I'll like that is), but still stand and wait as if there may be one. I've momentarily forgotten my quest to seek out a suitable stud, replacing it with interrogating the brother I've never had a good relationship, but still narrowing my brows as if I'm concerned (the little shit can rot, I'm The One).

"Talk."

kid