was this fate? [cyrus/closed adventure] (Read 146 times)

[SOL]

The sunlight broke through the pulled curtains spilling into the room. It swept over the young male covered with the blankets warming his face and causing his eyes to twitch. Opening his eyes, he yawned and patted his mouth before slowly sitting up only to feel a tug on his wrist. Looking down, one of his wrists were tied to the bed and the other one was free. Flexing his fingers, he glanced at the other wrist before reaching over to undo the restraints on the tied one. His clothes seemed odd as well. White robes that would only belong to someone in a..hospital. Realization crossed over his face as he glanced around at the white walls before a smile painted his features. Ah, so he was in a hospital and that nice woman right there with the syringe was going to help him. Wait, syringe? Quickly untying himself, he flipped out of the bed landing on his feet neatly. The woman stared in surprise but seemed quite determined.

Darting towards him, she thrusted the syringe at him several times trying to nail it on him. Though he continued to dodge and weave, grasping his normal clothes in the process that had been folded and washed. Crouching down, he narrowed his eyes before launching himself at her. Nailing her in the stomach with his head, the woman fell back and the syringe rolled away. He let out a sigh of satisfaction before undressing and pulling on his normal clothes. Glancing down at her again, he felt sorry for the woman. Lifting her up and placing her in the bed, he quickly exited the room. It wasn't that he hated laying in that bed, it was actually quite comfy. But he had something that he needed to do and he didn't have any money to pay them. 

So that is why our hero, Sol, was running away from a group of doctors. Racing down the streets of Magnolia, his eyes wide and movements fast-paced  as he pushed through the crowd. Their angered yells and cries echoing in his ears but he hadn't dared to look back. Eventually, he lost them somewhere around the market area, and sat down upon a bench feeling his legs were worn out from the run. Leaning his head back, he proceeded to fall into a light sleep having wasted too much energy.

Guess we have to wait a little while brother.

[Cyrus]

All things considered, Cyrus seldom thought of himself as a wicked man.

His targets were the naive, the lazy, and the hapless; people who would've inevitably been duped or backstabbed by those far less deserving of their spoils. If it wasn't him it'd be someone else, so it'd might as well be him. It was only logical. Someone brazen or dimwitted enough to konk out with their valuables in plain view needed to be taught a lesson in prudence. In a way, it could be seen as a subtle arrogance. Someone leaving their belongings lying around practically daring some unscrupulous vagabond to saunter along and snatch it up, fully believing in their own capacity to outwit them.

He sucked his teeth at the sight before him from his usual perch on the alleyway corner. After all the commotion he'd caused the stupid punk had the nerve to fall out in plain view. Cyrus could almost sense the eyes of every other cutpurse within a three block radius focusing on the kid. But this was his haul. And he didn't feel like sharing today.

The sun was still high in the evening sky, sending obnoxious beams of gold streaming down every which way. He pulled the hood of his cloak up and wandered into the crowd. In any other setting it might've done more harm than good. But in a town frequented by mages a shrouded figure wafting throughout the marketplace was just another Tuesday. The market was congested, moreso than usual, his arms and legs brushing up against another body with every halfstep forward until his cerulean eyes focused on their target.

A brown satchel at his side.

And no one was even paying attention, no one except those like himself who kmew what to look for.

Everyone was too self-absorbed, too lost in the trivial ennui of their day-to-day routine to be of any use to anyone. He passed the bench and without losing momentum plucked a dagger from the hilt of his belt. In a single fluid swish of his hand the strap of the boy's bag would be cut, his other hand nabbing it as it'd fall from his shoulder, then swinging it over his own as if it'd been his all along.

'This is too damn easy.' He smirked, then promptly slipped from the crowd and rejoined another back street.

One day he'd thank Cyrus for this lesson in real world ethics. And as a premature thank you, with the kid's silent blessing, he'd help himself to whatever was now hanging from the strap in his fingertips when he got back "home."

[SOL]

Once the bag was removed from his person, Sol's psyche told him to awaken. The eyes snapped open and slowly he rose to his feet with a darkened expression in his eyes. The childish glimmer having been swallowed by the darkness. His eyes surfing the crowd before locating the satchel, and his footsteps soon followed. At first they were soft, but as the crowd became thicker and he began to lose sight they hurried. He weaved around people and ducked under them before reaching out for his satchel. Instead, he grasped the shirt of the man who held it and quickly drug him back with all of his strength. He pulled the man into his chest and wrapped his arm around his neck to lock him in. Staring down at him with darkened eyes, he could feel every bone in his body screaming for him to tighten his grip and end him.

Though, he did nothing but stare at him. 

"Return my satchel, please."

The glimmer slowly returned back to his eyes, and he gave him a smile. Holding out his free hand for the satchel, some part of him was prepared to continue to choke the male for it. But that couldn't happen, not yet. He wasn't a murderer. Taking in the younger male's appearance, he didn't seem like one that would need to steal. Honestly, he looked as though he was taking care of himself just fine. But appearances could be deceiving and at the moment he wasn't willing to trust himself. 

[Cyrus]

'Hn?'

He heard footsteps near his coattail, louder and closer than the general shuffling of the inattentive masses on the main street. He felt a sudden weight on his back and cracked a subtle smile as he spun around at the last second.

He was face to face with a kid his own age. The other boy's arm snaked around his neck, his other pulling him close and pressing him up agsinst him by the front of his cloak. Cyrus didn't flinch, neither did he respond immediately. To his victim's eyes his perpetrator would regard him with the perfect nonchalance of a bored housecat, rather than the cornered mouse he tried to make him into.

Instead he looked up him and down. Judging from how brazen he was, he probably figured he could intimidate Cyrus into slinking down the ally like a scolded toddler caught with his hand in the cookie jar. If only. He might not have given it the forethought it deserved, but that didn't mean he was going to let his little game end so abruptly just because a disgruntled teen demanded it. Still, he was a bit frazzled even if he didn't let it show. The boy held him close, much too close, his gold bangs would be only a few inches away from his victims own forehead.

"Easy now...at least buy me dinner first~ ♥" He answered the boy's smile with a smirk of his own, his own eyes betraying a gleam of amusement. "And..." The dagger he still clutched in his other hand would gently press into the boy's side, just enough to let him feel the weight of the steel and sharpness of the blade's edge. "...I don't think you're in a position to play so rough."