Leo
Today
Heliopolis. Palace of the sun god.
The air in the grand chamber was thick with tension. The chamber was a sleek space, bathed in the cool glow of holographic displays, with an open skylight, hewn from the very heart of a mountain. The walls were adorned with intricate carvings depicting scenes of ancient conquests by my divine ancestors, the floor was black and gold marble, reflecting the distorted images of those that looked at it. I sat atop a throne of golden suns, observing before me, the sinister figures of my council members, watching with varying degrees of fear and intrigue trying to search my face but afraid to meet my gaze. I looked down and stroked the cat purring on my lap. He thought they looked hungry, I thought so too.
My Knights of the Sun, against my explicit orders, had launched an assault. Their mission had been a complete failure, and many of my soldiers had fallen. I knew my council members were all watching me, waiting to see how I would handle this. I didn't understand the suspense. They knew I tolerated zero dissent.
The news had been delivered by the errant soldiers, themselves messenger, their voices barely audible over the pounding of their hearts. The soldiers knelt before me, their heads bowed, their bodies trembling with fear.
I stepped off the throne and placed the cat on my shoulder. My robe of black silk, embroidered with intricate patterns of flames on the bottom dragging behind me, my white locks cascading down my back. My feet were encased in boots made of dragonhide, their scales glinting in the light, reminding everyone that I had slain bigger monsters than they were.
"I'm sorry. Could you repeat that one more time?" I demanded, my voice, deceptively calm, echoing through the chamber. "Some details escaped me." I said by way of explanation and handed the cat over to my caretaker, Mrs. Thompson. She said nothing as she took the cat who was annoyed he was missing the action, she only pleaded on their behalf with her eyes. I communicated through mine that I will take that into consideration.
The leader of the Knights, Andrew, with a face ashen with fear, stammered out an apology. "We... we were... we thought it was the right thing to do," he said, his voice barely audible.
My eyes narrowed. "The right thing to do? To disobey my orders? To risk your lives and the lives of your comrades. And for nothing?"
The soldier hung his head. "My Lord, I thought you wanted her stopped." He said, trembling harder.
"I gave you a clear order," I continued, my voice lowering, deceptively calm. "I told you not to attack her until I say so. I did not say so. Tell me, did you think I would not find out?"
The soldier's face turned even paler.
"You have failed me," said, my voice dripping with contempt. "You have failed your people. And you have failed yourself."
The soldier's eyes filled with tears. He knew that his punishment had already begun, His tears evaporated first, the corneas becoming dry, and then his skin started to darken. Along his the rest of his foolish squad.
"My Lord please!" He begged hoarsely, His tongue dry and swollen. They all begged till they could no longer form speech. Steaming a man's blood from the inside tended to have that dehydrating effect. The pleas came out silently as they rapidly shrunk before the eyes of all witnessing.
"I will not tolerate disobedience. Is that clear, Andrew?" I demanded, halting the process, my voice hard. He nodded as much as his atrophied muscles would allow. "You will get no more warnings from me." I stood as his shriveled body dropped from his knees to the floor and I turned to my guards. "Take them away."
The guards stepped forward and seized the Knight's nearly desiccated bodies and dragged them out of the chamber. It will take a few months for them to recover if they survived. They better have learned their lessons by then.
As the door slammed shut behind them, I turned to my council members. "Does anyone else want to defy me today?" I said. "So I can reward you with the price of your disobedience, get that out of the way so we can commence today's meeting."
The council members shook their heads, their faces filled with fear. They knew that their lives mattered less to me than the soldier whom I just punished, one I personally trained.
A massive, transparent table hovered above the floor, displaying a holographic map of the world. My council members seated around the table bathed in the cool glow of the displays. This group of cold, calculating individuals who had helped me seize power would love nothing more than to see me dead and take my place. But they don't have that ability so they grovel instead. They had fought long and hard to reach this point, and they were determined to maintain their grip on power.
I stood at the head of the table, not content to sit yet.
"Now," I continued, "it is time to consolidate our control. We must appoint new governors for each region, commanders for our armed forces, and ministers for key government departments. I had to get rid of a few ineffective leaders."
The council members exchanged glances. They knew that these appointments would be crucial to the firmness of their grip over the new world order and their stations in it.
"Let us begin with the governors," I said. "We need individuals who are experts in their fields and who are completely loyal to our cause." One by one, the council members suggested candidates. The debate was more heated, as each member sought to promote their own allies. Each name was met with a nod of approval or disapproval from me. Finally, I settled on a list of governors, each one more loyal to me than the last.
The rotten phenomenon that calls itself humanity differ very little from each other. Each capable of great harm. It would be so much easier to wipe them all out but I've chosen to guide them instead and yet they curse me for it. Insufferable fools. Although… there were few exceptions. Skye Harrison… I sighed.
I never asked for a power no one could challenge. But I will accept the burden of using it wisely to build a new world, a world that is free from the corruption and injustice of the past. No matter the cost.
Leo
Four years ago…
Azure Estate for contracted assets
This was paranoia, I mused. The military presence lurking around has absolutely nothing to do with me. Hiding in the open all these years has proven to be more effective than I anything else I have tried. Everyone truly believed they knew everything about me. I should however, prepare for a worst case scenario. They won't hurt my staff, of that I was certain. Human friends and family of the apprehended were paraded in the media as victims so the government could be praised as heroic saviors. Still, I should make sure they won't be caught in the crossfire if it gets to that. They better not come for me during the daytime. There now existed reports everywhere about sightings of my species. The rate of capture was currently three per month. Chimerae, the government called us. I have very little idea how we were found out. We have existed among humans for a long time. The origin of that existence is unknown. Maybe the next step in human evolution? There has however been an unspoken, collective agreement among my kind that we were to remain a secret. The temptation to display the ways in which we were superior to the rest of humankind was always outweighed by the common sense and knowledge of what the consequences looked like. Humanity has a history of dreading and wiping out the different. It helped that there were few of us. I've only ever met five others like me in my long time on this earth and we parted ways quickly. Gathering together was just asking for trouble. Once every few years, our abilities have surfaced here and there and were dismissed as freaks of nature. Not this time. Humans were told to look out for the unnaturally strong, fast and beautiful. Reports are being made every day. People betraying each other out of fear, greed or malice. There's distrust in the air. 60% percent of those reports turned out to be false. The rest? Well... Our most aggressive reactions during capture are displayed on the media, portraying us as mindless, animalistic and bloodthirsty. Gender, race, nationality, tribe, - for heaven's sake, an invisible line in the dirt have been enough reasons to kill and go to war. In a perfect world, our abilities were a gift, we would unwrap proudly. But the world isn't perfect, I thought, pulling my locks into an imperfect, messy bun. Humans were ruled by fear and uniqueness is a death sentence.
My mornings, at the Azure Wings housing estate provided for contracted celebrity assets, began with the gentle glow of dawn filtering through the expansive windows of my mansion. Rising with the sun, I greeted each new day with a sense of purpose. My mansion, meticulously decorated with modern elegance and touches of artistic flair, served as both sanctuary and inspiration.
Stepping into the spacious bathroom, I indulged in a ritual of self-care. The cool marble of the countertop contrasted with the warmth of steam rising from my morning shower. The routine was a symphony of familiar scents—a hint of sandalwood from my shaving cream, the crisp freshness of my favorite citrus-scented soap. I loved my life, even the aspect of how it smelled.
I surveyed my wardrobe—a carefully curated collection of designer suits and casual wear, each piece chosen to reflect my sophisticated style. As I selected the day's attire, my thoughts drifted to the upcoming photo shoot, a collaboration with renowned photographers and stylists who shared my passion for creativity and perfection.
Downstairs in the kitchen, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingled with the soft melodies of classical music playing in the background. I savored each sip, savoring the rich flavor as I reviewed the day's schedule on his tablet—a mix of fittings, meetings, and a rare moment of solitude before the whirlwind of the fashion world enveloped me.
"Good morning, Mrs. Thompson," I said warmly to the head housekeeper as I descended the staircase. Her face lit up with a smile, and she responded with a respectful nod. Mrs. Mary Thompson had been with me for over two years, and her dedication was something I deeply valued. I made it a point to greet each member of my household staff personally. It was a ritual that I cherished, a moment to connect with those who played an integral role in ensuring I was always at my best.
I could hear James, our chef, already bustling about, preparing breakfast. "Smells wonderful, James!," I complimented him from afar, inhaling the aroma coming from the kitchen.
"Good morning, Leo dear," she replied, her eyes crinkling with warmth. "You overslept." She said with an admonishing tone.
"Yes, I did, thank you for letting me," I answered, taking a seat at the kitchen table. She placed a steaming cup of coffee in front of me, just the way I liked it. "You have a busy day ahead, so make sure you eat a good breakfast," she said, her tone firm.
She handed me a detailed schedule for the day, which included a photo shoot, a meeting with a designer, and a charity event in the evening. "I've confirmed all your appointments and made sure your outfits are ready," she said with a reassuring smile. "Thank you, Mary. I couldn't do this without you," I replied, genuinely appreciative of her meticulous planning. I stifled a yawn, stretching as I felt the fogginess lifting away.
James, my chef chose that moment to make his entrance. "Morning, James. What's on the menu today?" I asked, taking a seat at the counter. "A protein-packed smoothie and a light omelet, perfect for keeping your energy up during the shoot," he responded, placing the colorful dishes in front of me. "Looks fantastic, as always," I complimented, knowing how much thought he put into every meal.
In the kitchen, James, our chef, was already preparing a nutritious breakfast tailored to my dietary needs.
As I ate, Clara, my stylist, joined us with a selection of outfits for the day. "I've picked out a few options for the shoot and the event tonight," she said, laying out the clothes. "Let's go over them after breakfast," I suggested, eager to see her choices. Clara had an impeccable eye for fashion.
As I ate, Mrs. Thompson hovered nearby, making sure I didn't skip anything. "Don't forget to take your vitamins," she reminded me, placing the bottle on the table. She was ridiculous like this sometimes. I don't get sick. I opened my mouth to protest. "I don't need-"
"And I've packed a healthy snack for you to take along. You can't be skipping meals, you know."
Sigh. "Thank you, Mrs. Thompson." I said, putting a hand on her shoulder, silently reminding her to calm down. She was always so high strung no matter the situation. "Make sure you take care of yourself as well." I told her. She smiled, her eyes softening and continued to brief me on the event details while Clara made final tweaks to my outfit. "Remember to mention the new campaign during your speech," she reminded me. "Got it. Thank you, Clara," I said, feeling well-prepared. "And don't forget to mention the new campaign during your speech." She repeated.
Stepping into the bustling streets of the city, my thoughts lingered on the day ahead. The morning sunlight painted a golden hue over the urban landscape, casting a sense of serenity amidst the bustling energy of the morning rush.
My destination, the agency's gym nestled north of the estate, awaited—a sanctuary where I could hone my physique and clear my mind. The rhythmic pulse of my footsteps echoed in sync with my anticipation.
Entering the gym, I was greeted by the familiar scent of polished wood and the quiet hum of activity. I made my way towards the weightlifting area, where I intended to begin my workout routine with focused determination.
As I approached the free weights section, I looked at the mirror backdrop and my reflection gazed back at me. My skin, the tapestry of dark hues, the sculpted contours of my face, my dark heavy eyebrows contrasting my ivory white dreadlocks that no one had suspected yet wasnt dyed, my eyes like pools of liquid gold, reflecting stories of a thousand sunsets. Despite the undeniable allure I knew I emanated and that I honour the gift of my physical form; I wasn't vain. I recognise the fleeting nature of beauty and the deeper truths that lie beneath the surface. Speaking of beauty, my eyes caught sight of her— strength and grace—engaged in a series of dynamic stretches nearby. Her confident demeanor caught and held attention and I couldn't look away if I tried. Verity.
I adjusted my grip on the dumbbell as I finished my set, turning towards the water cooler nearby. I glanced up at Verity again, her figure poised on a nearby treadmill, effortlessly gliding along.
The rhythmic clang of weights echoed through the gym, a symphony I found oddly comforting. Years of training had honed my body to peak human condition, but even at 300 years old, the familiar burn of exertion was a welcome reminder of my continued existence.
Today, I was more distracted than usual, perhaps because my gaze kept flickering to the treadmill across the room. Her hair pulled back in a sleek ponytail. Her outfit was a study in crisp whites and clean lines. Verity always appeared in white. Today, a fitted white ensemble hugged her curves without being restrictive, the high neckline hinting at a playful conservatism. Paired with it were high-waisted white leggings that accentuated her toned legs. She ran on the treadmill now. Her form was flawless, a dedication that mirrored my own. The solitude of a home workout holds a certain appeal, but the camaraderie, and dare I say, the company, make the gym a far more enticing option. Perhaps, one company in particular. We'd been circling each other for weeks, stolen glances and shy smiles exchanged over water fountains and protein bars, and from each side of the camera as head photographer and set designer of Azure Wings.
As I finished my set, she hopped off the treadmill, wiping a bead of sweat from her brow.
"Go easy on the machine. V" I said to her.
She smiled to me. "The machine better keep up with this beast," she said, her voice breathless but playful. "By the way, are you lifting that like it's nothing?" She was talking about the weights, I was supposed to pretend was heavy. A spark danced in her eyes, a playful glint that sent a flutter through me. This felt strange, I was hardly a teenager and I definitely didn't feel flutters.
"Trying to impress me?" She added as she moved into my space, a mischievous glint in her eye and my musings forgotten. My only thoughts were the soft press of her chest against mine.
"No ma'am." I smiled, I voice sounding thicker than I remembered. "Just glad, you're always here whenever I am." I tell her, aware it happened too often to be a coincidence. Neither was the current position we're in.
"I must have incredible timing." She breathily whispered.
"Just ask me, V." I said wiping off a bead of sweat headed for her brow.
"Ask you what, Leo?" She asked me smiling slyly putting her hand in mine and intertwining our fingers. We were currently breathing the same air and people were starting to stare. Good. Let them. People have stared at me all my life. At least, I was giving them a reason this time.
"Whatever you want, darling." I told her, lifting my free hand to the side of her face. "I might just say yes." I whispered the last part and she blushed.
We might've been the only two people there for all I cared. I could taste what her lips on the air between us. This is why the gym was one of my favorite places. It mattered less that it full of humans. There were no downsides to coming here... Except one.
"And what is it that I want-" Verity continued until she was interrupted.
"Leo!"
Viktor strutted across the gym floor, his every step a declaration of his imagined dominance and with a smile that didn't match his dead eyes. He had with him an entourage of peers, all exuding an air of excitement that expected reciprocation that they never got but lacked the ability to read the room. Viktor was my rival at the agency, (at least in his own mind) whose thinly veiled jealousy was a noxious cloud that threatened my good mood everyday.
And the walking advertisement for the latest overpriced athletic wear brand, to my increasing distress, didn't stop sauntering towards me. His neon green tank top clashed spectacularly with his highlighter yellow yoga pants, the ensemble screaming for attention with all the subtlety of a fog horn. A gaggle of equally garish clones followed in his wake, their laughter echoing off the weight racks like the squawks of exotic birds. His entourage, eager for scraps of approval, mirrored his outlandish attire. Mismatched neon sweatpants and leggings with clashing tank tops, each more impractical than the last. One sported fingerless gloves, a curious choice for someone about to lift weights, while another clutched oversized headphones devoid of any visible music source. Perhaps they were hoping to project an air of being in the zone, oblivious to the actual workout taking place around them. Their outfit was completed with such empty headed expressions I was reminded the characters of that kid animation. What was it? Ah. Minions. Also, they seemed very at ease for prey that just intruded into my sanctuary of solitude.
As they drew nearer, I could see that a glimmer of practicality actually peeked through in a couple of the hangers-on. They were walking a fine line between looking good and looking like you wandered into the gym from a rave.
"Leo, my man!" Viktor exclaimed, flashing a charismatic smile that seemed rehearsed to perfection. Doused in designer fragrance as usual, his harsh cologne arrived first before he did. Perched on his head were mirrored sunglasses, on top of his usual obnoxious pompadour, reflecting not the exertion of a workout but the ever-so-important image he so desperately cultivated. Verity's smile faltered, a flicker of annoyance crossing her features before she schooled her expression into polite indifference. Viktor no doubt mistook that for flashing green lights. "Hey, baby girl. What are you doing after this?" Verity stiffened, her entire demeanor but her face showing annoyance. His misplaced confidence was radiating like a heat wave. The encouraging laughter of his minions disrupted the focused silence of those genuinely committed to their workouts. A few seasoned gym rats shot them withering glances, silently judging the fashion show and the complete lack of sweat that accompanied it. "I'm booked solid, Vik." She said smiling sweetly.
"Till when?" The oblivious fool continued. Take the hint, man. I'd prefer not to have to step in. Viktor, however, remained blissfully unaware, lost in his own world.
"Till the day after the next time you ask me, Bye Leo." She said peering at me like a siren from underneath her long lashes and packing her items in a gym bag to leave. "Viktor." She nodded at him, and hastily exited.
Viktor either laughed or had an asthma attack, trying to shrug off the embarrassment. "Women." He said and then turned to me. "You can't miss tonight's party. It's going to be…" The Neanderthal struggled for two seconds to find a word more than three syllables. "Legendary." He finally says.
I raised an eyebrow, I had spent over 300 years wandering this world, I was the judge on legendary. "Viktor." I said, suppressing my third sigh for the day since he arrived. "Thank you for thinking of me but I'm afraid I'll be busy." I said, borrowing Verity's excuse.
His eyebrows furrowed as far as the Botox allowed, "But, I haven't even told you when."
Mercy me, that was true. I sighed inwardly. "I'm busy all weeke-".
Viktor's peers chimed in, each adding their own enthusiastic squawking. "It's the event of the season! You'll regret it if you don't come…" I was in no mood to decipher what the bored narcissist fixated on me was up to.
Viktor leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Seriously, Leo, this is a golden opportunity. Networking, connections—you name it. Plus, I hear Verity will be there." Ah. There it is. The real reason for all these theatrics. To a narcissist like Viktor, I had everything he deserved. The top spot at my agency, the attention of the beautiful photographer/set director, Miss Verity. Fourth sigh. I was bored anyway. His desperate attempt to turn me into one of those -what are they called- minions- was perhaps the most entertainment I'll get today.
With a subtle nod and a hint of resignation, I asked, "Where?" Viktor's smile might've ripped his face in half if it was wider. The over perfumed idiot was up to something.
The party was at the home of one of Viktor's minions, can't remember which one. I'd just returned from the Charity Gala, leaving the smells of perfumes and champagne for sweat and booze. I noticed Viktor wasn't present; he likely wasn't invited to the event. Unsurprising. The image he put out on the media, despite our agencies best efforts, was that of a raging playboy with a very wild lifestyle. It made him popular but not a good fit for events like this one. Somehow, Viktor believed and complained that that was my fault; always pointing out the discrimination he endures because the agency was afraid he would outshine me. He would be so much happier the day he realizes that he was his biggest obstacle.
The night throbbed with loud music and forced conviviality. Everywhere I looked, people mingled, their faces painted with manufactured smiles. Yet, here I was, at another social gathering, the reason for Viktor's simmering rage a constant undercurrent beneath the party's veneer. It was truly hilarious. Across the room, a fiery beacon cut through the throng of partygoers. The color of Scarlett at its most vibrant, tumbled down her back in a cascade of loose curls that danced with a life of their own.
Then, she turned, her face, framed by the mane of red in a captivating contrasts. Emerald eyes, the color of a moss-covered grotto after a summer rain, sparkled with intelligence and a hint of mischief. Her full lips, the color of a perfectly ripened plum, were curved into a smile that was subtly inviting.
She moved with a quiet confidence, her figure, clad in a white (for some reason she always wore white) simple yet elegant dress that skimmed her curves, radiating a quiet sensuality. Every step she took was purposeful, like a predator stalking its prey, but with an underlying grace that bespoke a deep inner strength. The white dress flowed in graceful waves, a symphony of light against the darker backdrop of dancing humans.
In a room filled with meticulously crafted beauty, Verity stood out not for artifice but for a raw, untamed allure. She was a captivating melody in a world of generic pop tunes, a jolt of adrenaline to my jaded senses. As our eyes met across the crowded room, in that moment, amidst the swirling lights and throbbing music, I knew I had to find a way to get to know this woman.
Viktor, my ever-present shadow this evening, chose that moment to obstruct my field of vision, a fanged grin plastered across his face. There was a pretty woman on his arm wearing a heavy amount of liner, more skin was clothing, and even more perfume than Viktor. I wasn't sure it was possible. The encounter from earlier at the gym had ignited a desperate need to assert some kind of dominance. "Leo, old friend," he drawled, his voice dripping with nearly believable camaraderie, "I'm glad you could make it. Verity." His eye raked up and down her body hungrily devouring every inch. If this was a show to make her jealous, he wasn't helping his cause.
"This is Beatrice." Oh you poor man. I facepalmed inwardly. Could he be any more obvious? Beatrice smiled at Verity and I noticed that she and Viktor each had matching Botox.
"Nice to meet you, Beatrice." Verity says to her.
Beatrice doesn't reply. Could she speak? I wondered. She just turns to Viktor and whines to him about wanting a drink. Oh, she could. True gentleman that he was, Viktor asks her to get it herself and take Verity with her. Maybe they were a perfect match, after all. Verity leaves with her probably because it's a chance of escape.
My lips tugged up to give him a tight smile and gently reminded myself, all life was important. All life was important. All life, even Viktor's was… Sigh.
He smiled at me. "Are you having fun?" Several ways I could end his already painful existence crossed my mind.
"I can't complain." Nothing I could say right now, would be considered socially acceptable so I naturally couldn't.
"So, check this out." He says leading his to his VIP section. "Me and the boys have placed a bet on who'd win in an arm wrestling contest. Because they saw you in that show doing stunts and shit. Me, I think I can take you. I do professional boxing. Do you do professional boxing?" He asked me. "No." He says before I could answer. "Takes a real man. Real guts. I bet my car. Hey, Ivan! Yeah, so Ivan gets my car if you win, hmmm? And I love that car. Here, sit down."
He led me to a table surrounded by already waiting spectators of his friends, their bimbos and some other party goers. There was a time humans worshipped me as a god. How is this now my life?
"Hey Ivan! He says he can get you the car. Hehe! Come here." He put his arm upon the table. "Come on. You know how it goes? You remember the college days, yeah?"
Viktor has been searching for a secret to use against me for months. And has come up with nothing as there wasn't a lot of information on me. I've lived my life in the shadows, even while under the spotlight. A knowing glint flickered in his eyes, a not-so-subtle jab at uncovering my background. Perhaps he thought I was trying to conceal an embarrassing secret. I raised an eyebrow, unfazed. "College days? Those were a lifetime ago, Viktor. But if you're feeling the competitive spirit,-."
Viktor smiled. "Sometimes, man. You talk really weird." Patting me on the back in an attempt to patronize me. I shrugged his arm off and put mine on the table.
His sycophants gathered, eager for a spectacle. Viktor locked eyes with me, his grip tightening around the table. For a human, he possessed impressive strength, honed for years as both our careers relied heavily on physical appearance. And he was really into sports. But against the raw ancient power coursing through my veins, I barely felt his resistance. He interrupted my time with Verity, I was going to knock the arrogant twat down a few pegs. Still. I had to make it look natural, put on a show of effort.
The referee's whistle pierced the air, and the battle commenced. Viktor strained, his face contorting in effort. A vein bulged on his forehead, a sign of his exertion. But my arm remained firmly planted, an immovable object to the max of his strength. With a controlled push, I sent his hand slamming down onto the table in defeat. You're welcome, Ivan.
A collective gasp rippled through the crowd. Was that too much? Viktor was admittedly a considerably larger man, even though I was taller. Maybe it was too much. Viktor's smile faltered for a fleeting moment, replaced by a flicker of something akin to fear. He recovered quickly, though, forcing a laugh that sounded more like a strangled cough. "Good one, Leo. Ivan! You better take good care of my car.'" His voice held a forced lightness, a desperate attempt to mask his embarrassment. The wooden table had a new impacted dent. Eh. It was a party. Anything could be blamed for that and witnesses were drunk. I looked up and saw a girl with raven hair staring at me intensely, almost unblinking, she looked vaguely familiar from earlier tonight. Perhaps at the charity gala. She lowered her eyes to the crack on the table. Shit. She seemed to be musing about something. Then, walked away. Must be Viktor's famously strong weed. I looked back at the table and the crack was gone. I immediately looked back up. She was gone as well. I sighed. Not my immediate problem.
The night continued in this vein. A game of darts became a test of precision, a feat my enhanced eyesight made a trivial matter. A round of pool transformed into a showcase of reflexes, where my feline agility easily outmaneuvered Viktor's practiced strokes. Each challenge, more outlandish than the last, ended with the same result – an increasing annoyance for Viktor and a quiet amusement for me. I was wrong. This party was fun.
However, I wasn't cruel. I let him win twice – a perfectly executed shuffleboard shove, a lucky break at the blackjack table. A small concession to maintain the illusion of normalcy, a flicker of hope for Viktor to cling to. As the night wore on, the desperation in Viktor's eyes grew more evident. His smile became strained, his challenges more erratic. He reeked of a cornered animal, lashing out with a bravado that was quickly dissolving. The crowd, initially intrigued by our rivalry, began to sense the underlying tension. Whispers fluttered through the air, a collective curiosity about the nature of our competition.
Eventually, the young humans tired out during the late hours of the night and trickled out gradually. The music kept playing quietly from speakers, no DJ in sight. I found myself on the roof with Viktor, his companions, Verity and a few others. Finally, with a theatrical flourish, Viktor, now drunk, announced the last challenge – a stargazing contest. "Whoever spots the most constellations wins," he declared, a manic edge to his voice. "Winner gets bragging rights… and maybe something more." He shot a pointed look at Verity, who stood nearby, a frown creasing her brow.
This was ridiculous. "Where's Beatrice, Vik?" I asked him. "I haven't seen her since you introduced her." Viktor reddened and muttered, "She went home. Wasn't feeling well."
"Hmmm." I nodded. The city lights twinkled below, like a reflection of the vast expanse of the night sky. Viktor, beside me, seemed to shrink under the immensity of the universe. I grew bored of his desperate attempts to salvage his pride.
The night sky, a canvas I'd known for centuries, held no secrets for me. Still annoyed with his drunk statement, I rattled off constellations – ancient and obscure – their names flowing effortlessly from my lips. Silence descended upon the rooftop, broken only by the distant hum of the city below. Viktor lay speechless, his face an expression of defeat. Maybe I should have gone easier on the brat. Verity, however looked amused, a smile playing on the edges of her lips.
I indulge Viktor because, annoying as he is, he is a part of my life. I can't always meet perfect people. And while solitude is peaceful, it can become a slow death.
In that moment, bathed in the soft glow of the moon, I was reflecting on my past. The silence stretched, thick with tension. Verity, who had followed us up to the rooftop, approached me, and lay beside me, her gaze a mixture of concern and curiosity. "Is everything alright, Leo?" she asked softly. I glanced at Viktor, his bluster completely gone, replaced by drowsiness. "Everything is fine, Verity," I said, my voice low and measured. "Just enjoying the view with my buddy and stargazing enthusiast." Verity's lips curved into a smile. She possessed a genuine curiosity, a willingness to see beyond the surface.
The city sprawled beneath me, a glittering tapestry of neon and darkness. The air, cool against my skin, held the faint echoes of the party's frivolity – a world I inhabited with increasing discomfort. Up here, on the rooftop bathed in moonlight, memories of a different existence gnawed at the edges of my consciousness.
Back then, the sky wasn't a spectacle of twinkling lights, but a vast, indifferent expanse. It was my only roof, a silent witness to the struggles of a nameless, forgotten creature. Hunger was a constant companion, the metallic tang of blood a more familiar scent than the expensive cologne that clung to Viktor tonight. Survival was a constant battle, a dance on a razor's edge. Any hint of my true nature – the preternatural strength, the senses that painted the world in vibrant hues invisible to human eyes – could mean death. Fear was a bitter pill I swallowed daily, a necessary cloak shielding me from a world that wouldn't understand. Till my divine parents came for me. And disappeared again, abandoning me for the second time.
This luxurious life felt strangely hollow sometimes. The mansion, the curated wardrobe, the endless stream of social gatherings – I loved my life but here… Here, on the rooftop, away from the noise and pretense, I felt a flicker of something akin to my old life that I took for granted. Not the desperation, but the genuine connections, and the ease that allowed you to just exist in the moment. There was no pressure or anxiety because no one thought much of or expected anything from you.
Verity, lying beside me, was a breath of fresh air. Her smile, free of artifice, held a spark that ignited a long-dormant yearning within me. A yearning for something more than mere survival. Perhaps, in this world of curated images and fleeting interactions, I could find a way to bridge the gap between the monster I hid that I was and the man I pretended to be. Perhaps, with Verity by my side, I could embrace both and finally, share who I truly am.
The city lights twinkled below, but my gaze remained fixed on her. Tonight, on this rooftop under a watchful moon, the future shimmered with a possibility I hadn't dared to dream of. The city lights twinkled below, a kaleidoscope of human ambition and fleeting desires. A cool breeze ruffled Verity's hair, sending a cold through me that wasn't entirely due to the night air. I brushed away the hair in her face, a wave of melancholy washing over me.
"Do you ever feel like you're living a borrowed life?" I asked, my voice low and introspective. Verity tilted her head, her emerald eyes shimmering with curiosity.
"Borrowed? How do you mean?" She asked.
I sighed, the sound heavy with unspoken burdens. "This existence, all the trappings of success… sometimes it feels like a costume I wear. When I was younger," I gestured vaguely at the city, "things were different. Survival was the only currency, the world a harsher place, but the connections… they felt more genuine."
"Why are you talking like that? You're just in your mid-thirties." She asked half-laughing. I just smiled.
"So, do you... miss that life?" Verity's question was gentle, laced with a hint of concern.
"Not exactly," I admitted, idly running a hand through her hair. "It was a constant struggle, but there was a certain… rawness to it. A sense of belonging that seems to elude me here, amidst all this luxury."
I took a deep breath, finally meeting her gaze. "Maybe it's because I haven't found the courage to let go of secrets I carry." I said tentatively. Testing the waters. "The fear of rejection, of being ostracized for what I truly am."
Verity's eyes widened slightly, but her expression remained open and inviting. "What kind of secrets, Leo? What are you?" she asked softly.
I hesitated, the weight of centuries pressing down on me. Could I trust her with this truth, a truth that could shatter the carefully constructed facade of my life? But something in her gaze, a spark of empathy and understanding, compelled me to take a chance.
"Perhaps," I said finally, my voice barely a whisper, "we can talk about it another time. When the moon isn't a witness."
Verity offered a small smile, a silent promise hanging in the air. "I'm here to listen, Leo," she said, her voice filled with sincerity, her hand on mine. "Whenever you're ready."
Her eyes, the color of deep emerald moss, held a well of empathy that both soothed and unsettled me. My gaze was pulled down to her lips. They were full, inviting, a hint of amusement dancing around the edges. The conversation, a dance around the unspoken truth of my existence, had left a raw vulnerability hanging in the air. Her lips were just an inch away, I could just- An impulsive desire surged through me. Before I could act on it, before reason could reignite, she surprised me.
With a swiftness that stole my breath, Verity closed the distance between us. Her lips met mine in a kiss that was both soft and electric. It was a touch that sent a jolt of something familiar, yet not, coursing through my veins, letting go of the carefully cultivated control I maintained in most social interactions. For a moment, the world around us faded away. There was only the press of her lips, the warmth of her body, the intoxicating scent of her perfume mingled with the cool night air. It was unspoken desires and silent promises. When she finally pulled away, a breathless smile played on her lips. My own lips tingled with the aftershock of the kiss, my heart hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs. In her emerald eyes, I saw a question hanging unspoken - an invitation to a future I hadn't dared to dream of.
Before I could regain speech, she got up. "Goodnight Leo." Then she left, bathed in the cool moonlight, her hair a cascade of fiery brilliance against the night sky.