I despise most people. That being said, I couldn't explain exactly why I hated Orpheus so damn much. Maybe it was that smug look forever plastered on his face. Or probably, Atticus thought to himself quietly as he was attended to by Egyptian medicine men, it was the appearance that he had everything all figured out. I lay on a stone table pondering these things, my mouth filled with cotton to soak up the continuous trickle of blood that climbed from my abdomen and chest. They poured soothing waters over my entire naked body, washing away dried bits of earth and blood. The smells of lilac and sandalwood perfumed the air, and it stifled me. This was too pleasant, I was in need of something more befitting a warrior. As if by reading my thoughts, the room emptied only to have tall brooding thing of a man enter. He wore the mask of Anubis the God of the Underworld in this culture. Without hesitation, he took my body in his hands, pressing with a mutated strength. His voice was all but inaudible, what with the mask. Somehow though, I could understand him. Incantations, a language any magi-inclined being could respect and intrinsically meld with. As his brutish hands massaged magic into the fibers of my wounds, my mind drifted to Orpheus once again. He'd told me that we had known each other in another life... It struck me odd, because I knew that man too, once...One in the same, and yet so completely different....Needless to say, I got the feeling that everyone hated Orpheus.
Within the twinkling of my eyes, a flash of light disguised the immediate fleeing of my opponent. The light blinded me for only a moment but it was enough. I felt the gravity change, his presence pulling on my own field of knowing. My head flung back, as his hand gathered my locks, forcing them forward once more for a devastating blow to my visage. The instantaneous pain broke any thought processes, all I could feel was the blood rushing from my nose and the searing, drumming brokenness.
Sure that I could not handle another such brutality, I teleported myself away. Anywhere that was not in the grip of that beast. I know that he is my opposite. I know that he is physically stronger than me...I know that he too possesses some ambling of arcana. Yet, I've come here to do a job, to prove myself to myself that I am worthy of the power that I posses. "A true gentleman would have accepted that drink" Blood pools at the bottom of my teeth and I spit of to the side of me. I'd reappeared next to a lounging area, a collection of gaudy brightly colored chairs surrounded me. There were people off to any side of me, I look up to the second floor railing, onlookers still. If I could not over power him with sheer force alone then I would at least, even the odds with numbers. Quickly, I weave my arms before me, symbols of darkness appear. Floating in a circular fashion, they collect in into one small black orifice to another world. Souls of demonic nature burst through the spacial opening, and entered the standers by. One by one, their bodies became puppets to my masterful hands. "Come protect your master" Some did just that. Running to ranks, they surrounded me. Then bodies started to drop from above, six in total. You could hear the crunching of their skulls.
"I bet you could save them...I bet you want too. But you won't be able to do all of that defeat me." My taunt was hopefully true, I had no idea the capabilities of this man. But the longer he waited, the more the demons would fester inside of their bodies, and once they'd finished feasting on the souls, they could come to this plane in a more fleshy form...A more real and threatening form.
@amazingangel: I'm no stranger to the idea and reality of alternate dimensions where things are the same and yet in every way possible the different. I'd spent the better part of two years in graveyard for souls, a place where I saw everything that nightmares are made of. Scary held a different meaning now. No longer were they the creatures that hid under beds and in dark spaces, those things were familiar and a welcome sight. We were kin. I don't know that I fear anything now, which in an oxymoronic way scares me. As much of a demon I have become, part of me is still human, humane. And the most dangerous thing in this world is a man with nothing to lose. That was who I was.
I've been eyeing him from across the bar for a while now. Every now and then, when his glance would pass mine, I was sure to look away. I could smell the depth of the variety of bourbons, an intoxicating scent that I'd always loved. Memories of my father sipping the stuff in our homes' library while he stared endlessly at pages of arcana, I rolled my eyes, ignoring my feeling of warmth. Then a sickly twinge of well liquors broke the beautiful wafts, the aromas of cheap tequila and vodka almost made me gag. All night long, I've been sitting here, waiting, watching...Will he move first? I see him reach for a bottle of chocolate milk...A sober saint. This is too precious. Just in spite of his sobriety I finally order a shot of Irish Whiskey and it goes down strong and smooth, the burn in my chest riles me so.
CLINK! I slam the shot glass on the table. "Fine then"! All eyes turn to me as I stand at the farthest end of the bar. I quickly pick the shot glass up and throw it across the length of the bar, directly at my opponent...I don't speak another word, but proceed to jump the bar, and just like roaches in light, all others scatter, as if they knew what was to come. The neon lights hum above me, I pass through yellows and pink, and blue tints until I come nearly face to face with my opponent. But not before I take a bottle in my hand, Absinthe to be exact. "Before I kill you" I pour us both a small amount in two glasses. Whether he accepted the libation was irrelevant, this was more than just a fight...I could sense the light within him..How it clashed with me in every way...