Repercussions and Reconciliations (Calix and Elijah, PG-13 possible)

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Repercussions and Reconciliations (Calix and Elijah, PG-13 possible)

Post by Guest on Thu Mar 28, 2013 12:31 am

The last six months for Rychard had been completely unplanned. The initial reason for his departure had been just to spend some time away from being a demigod. He was going to travel back to the Catskills and visit the graves of Lieu, Verna, Nef, Kyrus, and Yumi the family that had raised and trained him after his mother's death. They had died when he was fourteen and now he was days away from turning nineteen. Yet, his plan had come to a complete halt the moment he had walked into the old cabin deep in the Catskills only to find Ares, the Greek god of War, sitting at the kitchen table enjoying what was unmistakably a stack of Verna's peach pancakes. It was a cruel jest, but Rychard had found out that the god of war was not there to make fun of him. He had come to see the grave of his son. Lieu, unbeknownst to Rychard, had been a son of Ares. A son of Ares that had been given a prophecy when he was a boy of nineteen. Even now, as Rychard walked through Camp Jupiter 2.0 with whispers dogging his steps he could still hear Ares' words as he spoke the prophecy to Rychard six months ago.

Ages come and go, but warriors still remain.
Greek and Roman is but a rose with a different name.
One who fights with Talon and Fang,
The fates have sang.
You will train a different name, but he will fight the same.


Ares' words had made Rychard's history make sense for a brief moment. Why Verna, Nef, Kyrus, and Yumi had all been able to see through the mist and fight monsters with Celestial Bronze and Imperial Gold. They had all been demigods, not mortals, and Lieu was trying to figure out the prophecy. Only until an eleven year old boy had stumbled into his camp, half-starved and holding two Roman Imperial Gold Broadswords and called them Tooth and Nail had it made sense. That was why Kurt Malone, a Greek, had raised Rychard, a Roman. It explained why Rychard was so comfortable around Greeks, and it explained why he seemed to have a higher drive to unify the Camps. Had he only known this before! Still, it was too late to wish on mayhaps and maybes. Rychard's short trip had turned into a long one because of another god, rather goddess. Ares, after telling Rychard Lieu's story had transformed into Mars and summoned the Lady Diane. Apparently Mars had a deal with her, that if he had ever found Rychard he would call out to her so she could exact punishment on Rychard for the death of Crystal.

Lady Diane had come sprinting out of the bushes ready to face a demigod who was ruthless and remorseless and instead as soon as Rychard saw her face he fell to his knees and begged forgiveness. He told her of his last night with Lycaon and what happened between Cyrstal and him. How she had forgiven him for what he was about to do and how Rychard had realized that the only way to save her was to end her life before Lycaon and his werewolves could defile her in the worst ways imaginable. He nor Crystal had no knowledge of the ambush that was waiting for Lycaon the next night. Rychard had no knowledge that he could have easily postponed killing her. Lady Diane saw the truth in his eyes and gave him a way to redeem himself. She had ordered him to seek out the backdoor into the Underworld, the Door of Orpheus, and from there journey into Elysium to find Crystal's ghost and beg her forgiveness a second time.

The weeks in the Underworld, after spending months finding the Door of Orpheus, had been the hardest of his life. Surviving on little but sips of nectar and nibbles of ambrosia everyday; Rychard was forced to use every trick, every lesson that Lieu had taught him. A few times Rychard even had to resort to the lessons taught by Lycaon. The times he was forced to torture, albeit torture monsters, was like stepping back into his time with Lycaon. Even so, eventually he had succeeded, Rychard made it to Elysium. There was, however a surprise waiting for him, and it came in the form of Rychard's mother Rebecca. After speaking with Crystal and receiving her forgiveness, Rychard heard her voice and nearly collapsed as she found him there. They talked for hours about his life since her death. Then as an alarm sounded that there was an intruder in Elysium Rebecca said the one thing that Rychard had been wanting to hear for nine years.

"I love you, Rychard." Rebecca had said as they hugged for last time. "I love you and I am proud of you."

The hardest part was letting go of her, but he had to. He ran until he had made it back to Central Park where he found Lady Diane waiting for him. Instantly he had gone to one knee and begged her forgiveness a second time. Diane acknowledged that Rychard had passed her test, but as Rychard offered Crystal's Huntress bracelet back she refused to take it. Instead, she took it from him and placed it on his wrist.

"You will never again forget the lives that were lost so you could stand where you stand now, boy." She had said to him as the crescent moon shone overhead. "You will never again forget the responsibility that you have towards their souls to live your life with honor. Nor will you ever forget your duty to the Legion. You will wear my mark as a reminder of this promise. You are not one of my Hunters, and I cannot change the fact that the fates made you a boy, but you are one of the few boys I will ever trust. Do Not ever make me lose my trust in you Rychard, for then my Hunters and I will see how the Wolf of Rome fares at being prey instead of a predator."

That had been four days ago.

Now Rychard was back, and he was ready. He was ready to be a part of the Legion once again. He was ready to live his promise to Diane everyday for the rest of his life. Yet, most of all, as he knocked on Calix's door. Rychard was ready to face the punishment he would undoubtedly receive for being gone for so long.

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Re: Repercussions and Reconciliations (Calix and Elijah, PG-13 possible)

Post by Elijah Emmanual-Wheelan on Sun Mar 31, 2013 2:57 am

Everything was bad. Beyond bad. Bad and devastating...although it all went far beyond that. Elijah didn't even have words right now. He went through his days like some sort of zombie, doing what he had to do without a second thought. Despite her attempts, the boy had barely said a word to River. Any thought of Jack flew from his mind in an instant. The days were filled with emptiness, the nights with nightmare that woke Elijah up, gasping for breath. The nights that he got any sleep, anyway. More often than not, the boy found himself spending his nights in Calix's room, sitting with the boy who was one of his best friends and even more broken than Elijah was. The Discordia siblings had had a rather dysfunctional relationship from the beginning, and it hurt Elijah so badly that some of the last things he had said to his sister were cruel words. Sometimes, the son of Discordia could find a moment of solace in the fact that the last time he and Lúth had seen each other, everything had ended on a more upbeat note. The song she had played for him that had brought tears to his eyes still rang in his ears. The fact that he had gotten the chance to hug her like a sibling would...his last words to her, even as a whisper...No matter what...You will always be my big sister. Lúthien...but that was it. It only lasted a moment before Elijah remembered he had cowardly walked away after that. Turned his back to Lúth and walked away with his head down. Now what brought tears to the boy's eyes was the fact that he would probably never get a chance like that again. His big sister was gone for good. And every cruel word, every mocking threat, every missed chance to just tell his sister he was so grateful she was in his life, swarmed through Elijah's already chaotic head. And nothing could make it better.

"Ad me quaeso redi. Meorum, familia tantum soror..." Elijah muttered, laying back on his bed and staring up at the ceiling. "Neque me tantum...Nec solum pone iam," most of the boy's speaking, as well as his thinking, was in Latin anymore. No one really understood Latin. And there was just something soothing about the language. Sometimes Elijah hoped that if he kept speaking and thinking in the dead language, he would forget English and never speak to anyone again. Of course, he could never do that to Calix. Calix; Lúth's love, one of Elijah's best friends and confidants, fellow Praetor, and one of the few people the boy knew was stronger than he was. But as strong and stolid as Calix had remained through everything (especially some of the bracchae Elijah put him through), there were some things that could break anyone. And in all honesty, if this hadn't shattered Calix, Elijah would have had some rather nasty words with Vulcan about replacing his friend with an automaton. "Calix contritus est, Im 'omnes ut' relinquetur," the boy sighed. Although he rarely looked at his clock anymore, Elijah was getting decent at feeling the time. Along with that came weird feelings when Calix needed him. Glancing at his clock, the boy watched the second hand tick slowly...mesmerized for a moment (when was the last time he had gotten any sleep?) Elijah thought maybe it was time to go check in on Calix. Gods...had it really only been a little over a week since the two had been in the older boy's room, talking about silly adolescent boy things like relationship issues and sex lives? Laughing and joking around together? Now it was like the two Praetors were empty shells...sitting besides each other, Calix mostly silent and attempting to keep up a constantly wavering facade and Elijah trying to be the strong one and comfort his friend while he was crumbling inside.

With a deep breath, Elijah got up from his bed and slowly walked to the door. Staring at it for a moment, the boy remembered his first encounter with Jack. Throwing various breakables at the door, radiating badly enough that it felt like an atomic bomb had been dropped over camp. How Calix had come in, helped Elijah through that first difficult night. When their friendship had truly developed (luckily Calix had gotten over the whole broken jaw thing by then). Putting his hand on the doorknob, Elijah just stared for a moment. "Conteratur quasi vitrum," he mumbled, not even having the energy to turn the doorknob (quando aliquid ultimum obtinuisset sopore?) There came the thoughts. The son of Discordia tried not to think in Latin before he was going over to sit with Calix...if he thought too much in the other language, sometimes he slipped up and forgot English words, or ended up speaking some odd English/Latin hybrid language. Neither were helpful, so Elijah just tried to brace himself by preparing English before he went to his friend. Although Calix spoke Latin just as well as Elijah did (which Elijah used to think was funny, because Calix had probably been raised with it and Elijah taught himself everything in about two and a half years...Latine monstro?), the two rarely exchanged a word in Latin to begin with. And lately, just as much as Elijah had been struggling with English, Calix didn't seem to care much for Latin. Well, he didn't care much for either language, honestly. Calix wasn't a man of many words to begin with, and this nightmare come to life seemed to have taken language from him nearly completely.

Finally, Elijah convinced himself to turn the doorknob. He peeked out the door real quick, and didn't see anyone, so he quickly slipped into Calix's room. It was a complete relief that the two were such close friends that they could do this sort of thing without it being awkward or weird. Sighing softly, Elijah thoughtfully looked for his friend. "Et incolumem in angulo aut crispanti sub rudentis hoc tempus?" he asked softly. Before he could get another word out, though, there was a knock on Calix's door. Odd...no one bothered back here, and there hadn't been anyone outside the doors a moment ago. Elijah frowned, but opened the door a crack. Bright blue eyes looking over the person before him, the boy frowned even deeper. This was completely absurd. Because he had heard Rychard was returning to camp, but everyone had to have heard about what had happened by now. In Elijah's opinion, it took a lot of audacity to show up at Calix's door at a moment like this. The boy's eyes narrowed. "Welcome back," he said in a bored tone. "I don't know what you could possibly want at a time like this, but here's a tip...you haven't been invited to this vigil, so it may be best to come back another day," it almost felt like in Lúth's absence, Elijah had picked up her cutting words. He had always been more of a physical fighter, but he simply didn't have the energy anymore. "And if you really feel it's a good time, I'd be really okay showing you it isn't. Which would include a stay in the infirmary," Elijah stared for another moment before shrugging. "Quidam praemeditari," he finished in the same tone he started with.

((Hey look, I'm Google Translate and I kind of suck, but Zoé still uses me! Good luck!))

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Re: Repercussions and Reconciliations (Calix and Elijah, PG-13 possible)

Post by Guest on Sun Mar 31, 2013 4:06 am

Elijah? Is that you?!

The thought painted concern on Rychard's face. Elijah looked terrible. Rychard couldn't even find the words to speak. Elijah looked like his world had shattered and left nothing but jagged pieced behind to poke and prod him. Rychard knew that feeling, he knew it well. Someone wasn't with them anymore. Dead or missing; it didn't matter. The fact was that someone that Elijah cared about was gone. Wait, this was Calix's room Rychard was sure of it. It had to be, but then why were all the lights off? Why was Elijah here? Too many questions and not enough answers. Rychard had come straight up to the Principia and hadn't stopped for anything. Not for food, he couldn't eat he was so nervous. Not to wash up, he couldn't sit still for that long. No Rychard was there in front of Calix's door just as he had come back out of the Door of Orpheus. He had wanted to get whatever punishment he deserved over with, but now with Elijah staring at him with a look he knew all too well he wanted to know what happened.

"Elijah..." Rychard said in little more than a concerned whisper. "Who was it? What happened? If it'll help, go ahead I deserve any anger you have towards me."

Rychard tried to put unsaid words into his tone. Words he couldn't say, because he knew they wouldn't help. Rychard had lost enough people in his life to know that 'I'm sorry' is a courteous statement, 'they're in a better place.' a farce, and 'it'll get better' a boldface lie. No, of all things, it never got better. You just got used to the pain.

This is my fault. I left! Dammit, I left and now this! My fault...

As he stood there in front of Elijah, Rychard's hand went involuntarily to the bracelet on his left wrist. The bracelet given to him by the Lady Diane. Crystal's Bracelet. No, he couldn't blame himself. He had a responsibility to serve and protect, but blaming himself was something he couldn't do anymore. Let them cast the blame on him, Rychard would bare it, but he would not do it to himself. Not anymore.

"Elijah, I've been in the Underworld until about four days ago." He said finally. "I don't know what happened, but I can tell someone isn't with you anymore."

Rychard had almost said us, but he had stopped himself. Rychard wasn't even sure if he had a right to say us, yet.

"So go ahead." Rychard said simply as he shrugged out of the shoulder sheaths that crossed his back in an X. Tooth and Nail fell to the ground at his feet and he held his arms out partially. Giving Elijah an opening if he wanted it. "If it'll help I'll do what I can. Even if it means I'm a punching bag."

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Re: Repercussions and Reconciliations (Calix and Elijah, PG-13 possible)

Post by Guest on Sun Mar 31, 2013 10:48 pm

No place was safe anymore. Calix thought on this he regarded his reflection. His pale and sunken reflection. The face void of all emotion, the face he thought he'd never see again, but much more malnourished. How could he eat? How could he live? Calix blinked slowly at himself, and when his eyes closed for that split second they almost didn't open. Hungry and tired. Tired and hungry. Two sides of the same coin. Two effects of the same incident. The reason all the life had been drained out of him along with his will, the entire being he used to be, gone. Vanished. Into the night. That night. That cold, dark night. Leaving him here, sitting on the edge of his bathtub, half-dressed, staring at the shell of his former self in the mirror. Calix raised a hand weakly and ran his fingertips over his chin where he felt the beginnings of stubble. His eyes shifted away from his reflection for a second and scanned the area around his sink where he usually kept all of his things before returning. Still scattered from when he'd first returned after that night. In a rage, he'd stormed into his room and trashed everything before going into the bathroom and doing the same. While he had to pick up the remnants of his living quarters when he needed blanket to wrap himself in in an attempt to simulate the feeling of warmth, he'd left the bathroom in a state of disarray. The mirror and the area around it was now as unkempt as he, perfectly mirroring his state of mind as did the surrounding darkness. And yet the clock above the mirror continued to tick... perfectly fine. Perfectly normal.

But how could anything be normal? How did time continue to go by when Calix's world stood perfectly still? How could the world go on turning? How could Calix just.... go on? The mere thought sent another shard of agony through his heart, and he gasped in a breath, clawing at his chest. He tore his eyes away from the mirror, aware they were filling with the bitter tears that wouldn't stop no matter how hard he tried. But Calix tried. He always tried though he knew the result would also be the same. Calix sat there, his hands covering his face, his broad shoulders usually erect and proud hunched forward, rising and falling with the force of his silent sobs. He inhaled sharply and let it out in one strangled breath. He repeated this action over and over again and more tears fell through the gaps in his fingers. Everything seemed to fall through the gaps. Time, love, life. Already a week had passed. A week without smiling. A week without picking up his sword. A week without picking up a pencil or a folder. A week without leaving the confines of the Principia. A week without eating anymore more than a few crackers and drinking a few sips of water. A week without a full conversation with anyone: including Elijah who'd been amazingly strong. For the both of them. He shouldn't have to be. Calix should have been strong as well. He couldn't let the younger boy carry both burdens. But he did because Calix was weak. Because he couldn't even last one week. Without Lúthien.

Lúthien. The name killed him all over again. Just as he thought he was getting over his fit, another wave of misery took him over and he couldn't take it. The heaving became more intense, Calix found it harder to breathe in between cries. He squeezed his eyes tighter shut, but as he did, the images began to flash. The Skeletons slashing at her. The light leaving her eyes. The blood staining the ground and staining his clothes. The look she'd given him before.... before.... Calix opened his eyes, the tears still flowing all the more freely. He couldn't handle it. He couldn't take it. This vulnerability should have disgusted him. Disgusted the face he'd seen in the mirror, that empty shell that she'd filled with love. Love and understanding and patience. Happiness. Everything that was lost just as easily as it was gained. He'd opened himself to her, given her everything, his heart, his trust, his undying love. The love that still beat painfully, stabbing him deeper and deeper with each palpitation. But not in the heart. Rather, the hole left there when Pluto ripped it out. Ripped her away from him. This was the part where Calix should've felt indignance. Where the rage he felt for the god stopped all the tears and made him punch something in anger. But he was too tired. Too tired. Too broken. Too scattered to be angry. Too..... done to even get up. But somehow he managed. Calix struggled to his feet, rubbing at the last tear stains on his face. His eyes were red. He didn't wash his face to get rid of the residue. He pulled on his bathrobe and tied it before dragging himself, shoulders still hunched and eyes on the ground, out of his room.

A whisper of voices made Calix lift up his head, neck creaking as he straightened his spine. Calix blinked a few times before the picture came into full focus. Elijah, so brave, so strong, standing tall and proud facing a figure that took a while to match a name to. Rychard. Rychard Graesin. Calix's former partner, returned from wherever the hell he was. Calix looked between the two before trudging to his bed and sitting on the mattress. That short walk took a lot out of the Praetor and he had to take a moment to take a breath. His eyes returned their downward gaze to his hands which he folded in front of him, twiddling his fingers. Vaguely he heard the conversation go on around him, he didn't process any words. He barely heard their voices. Just the gurgling of sound and the ringing of his own ears. Calix pressed his hands over his ears for a second, not having the energy or the heart to get up and tell the both of them to get up and leave him in peace. Then Rychard dropped his swords rather loudly and very rudely on Calix's floor. The Praetor jumped and turned his eyes to rest on the son of Minerva just as he made his request. Before Elijah could respond, Calix spoke up. "Elijah," he said, his voice croaky but firm. At least... firmer than it had been before.

Shakily, the Legacy of Bellona stood and moved to stand next to his fellow Praetor, facing his former partner. Calix looked over Rychard. Filthy. And he dared to enter the Principia like this? Calix's blank eyes narrowed, the start of a flame sparking there. "Leave. You have no right." It further angered Calix that he had to waste that much breath on the likes of him. How dare he. Intrude looking like a mess in the middle of such a crisis and decide to offer himself up as help. Intruding. Intruder. That's all Calix thought of him as. Not as help. A nuisance. Nobody had asked for his assistance. Nobody cared for his assistance or opinion. Or help. He had no right. Absolutely no right. While all the others left them alone, why did Rychard think he had special access? With a sudden burst of rageful energy, Calix bent down and snatched up Rychard's weapons. He threw them violently at the other boy. "LEAVE!" he screamed.

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