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- 1-3 posts per week
- One post per week
- Slow As Molasses
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- Preferred Character Gender
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- Primarily Prefer Male
- No Preferences
BONUS MATERIAL OUT OF CHARACTER PRIVATE Drabbles Upon Drabbles! Maybe Lore! Maybe More!
- Thread starter kroyote
- Start date
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So many newbies lately! Here is a very important PSA about one of our most vital content policies! Read it even if you are an ancient member!
- Posting Speed
- Multiple posts per week
- 1-3 posts per week
- One post per week
- Slow As Molasses
- Writing Levels
- Adept
- Advanced
- Adaptable
- Preferred Character Gender
- Nonbinary
- Primarily Prefer Male
- No Preferences
#1 PARTIES ARE A DRAG.... —
Idle hands. Dull, boring chatter. Dim lights. The faint smell of alcohol in the air.
Brown eyes darted around to look for something, anything to entertain him. Phaedra had been long since pulled into some conversation about colleges with their mother and some lady he'd never even seen until today. What was her name again? Williamson? Pyre already forgot.
He glanced around once more, his hand going up to tug at the collar of his shirt before a large, warm hand landed on his shoulder. Fuck. He tilted his head up slightly, eyes meeting dark blue ones that had narrowed in on him. It felt like hours Pyre and his dad were both just kind of.. Standing there and staring at each other, waiting to see who broke first. Of course though, it was Pyre. It was always fucking Pyre. "What?"
"Leave your shirt alone."
"But it's choking me."
"No it isn't, you're fine."
Pyre narrowed his eyes, his brow furrowing and wrinkling as insolent words started to work their way on his tongue. His mouth opened, but quickly snapped shut as his father's hand gripped his shoulder.
"Watch yourself, kid." His voice was low and his gaze felt uncomfortably cold, "You didn't have to come. Especially if you're just going to complain and be a brat the whole time."
"Aye, Andrews!" A voice called and Pyre's father let go of his shoulder.
Andrews leaned down in Pyre's ear and whispered, "Maybe… Go make some new, better friends." He then straightened, smiled, and turned away to leave Pyre to silently seethe.
"Didn't have to come" His ass. If it was an option, Pyre wouldn't be here or anywhere near this stupid place. Maybe he'd be at the gym, or exercising his powers because lord knows he needed to.
Phaedra and him were almost always never given the option to not come. Shoved in stuffy clothes, forced to stand around with adults talking boring business, or whatever else it was they were on about. Pyre never cared to listen, and why should he? There were better things he could be doing outside of this damn gala, surely.
And the fuck did he mean by better friends?! His friend choice was just fine!
His fingers curled to the palm of his hands, thumbs tucking underneath them out of habit. He clenched his teeth together, eyes glaring after his father, the color flickering in and out of heated embers to pools of chocolate.
"PJ?" A voice cut through his thoughts, head turning quickly to find the source. Relaxing his jaw and blinking rapidly, he found Phaedra, and their mom staring at him. Phaedra had been the one to speak, was even starting to reach out, but Pyre had stepped back from her reach. Their mother's features soft, yet riddled with concern and minor confusion.
"Pyre, honey? What's wrong?"
Pyre forced a smile and a brief thumbs up. "Yeah, I'm just dandy!"
"Pyre–" His mother started again, but he cut her off.
"I'm gonna go outside. I'll be back." Turning on his heel, Pyre made a bee-line for one of the doors that lead to a gardened area outside.
Idle hands. Dull, boring chatter. Dim lights. The faint smell of alcohol in the air.
Brown eyes darted around to look for something, anything to entertain him. Phaedra had been long since pulled into some conversation about colleges with their mother and some lady he'd never even seen until today. What was her name again? Williamson? Pyre already forgot.
He glanced around once more, his hand going up to tug at the collar of his shirt before a large, warm hand landed on his shoulder. Fuck. He tilted his head up slightly, eyes meeting dark blue ones that had narrowed in on him. It felt like hours Pyre and his dad were both just kind of.. Standing there and staring at each other, waiting to see who broke first. Of course though, it was Pyre. It was always fucking Pyre. "What?"
"Leave your shirt alone."
"But it's choking me."
"No it isn't, you're fine."
Pyre narrowed his eyes, his brow furrowing and wrinkling as insolent words started to work their way on his tongue. His mouth opened, but quickly snapped shut as his father's hand gripped his shoulder.
"Watch yourself, kid." His voice was low and his gaze felt uncomfortably cold, "You didn't have to come. Especially if you're just going to complain and be a brat the whole time."
"Aye, Andrews!" A voice called and Pyre's father let go of his shoulder.
Andrews leaned down in Pyre's ear and whispered, "Maybe… Go make some new, better friends." He then straightened, smiled, and turned away to leave Pyre to silently seethe.
"Didn't have to come" His ass. If it was an option, Pyre wouldn't be here or anywhere near this stupid place. Maybe he'd be at the gym, or exercising his powers because lord knows he needed to.
Phaedra and him were almost always never given the option to not come. Shoved in stuffy clothes, forced to stand around with adults talking boring business, or whatever else it was they were on about. Pyre never cared to listen, and why should he? There were better things he could be doing outside of this damn gala, surely.
And the fuck did he mean by better friends?! His friend choice was just fine!
His fingers curled to the palm of his hands, thumbs tucking underneath them out of habit. He clenched his teeth together, eyes glaring after his father, the color flickering in and out of heated embers to pools of chocolate.
"PJ?" A voice cut through his thoughts, head turning quickly to find the source. Relaxing his jaw and blinking rapidly, he found Phaedra, and their mom staring at him. Phaedra had been the one to speak, was even starting to reach out, but Pyre had stepped back from her reach. Their mother's features soft, yet riddled with concern and minor confusion.
"Pyre, honey? What's wrong?"
Pyre forced a smile and a brief thumbs up. "Yeah, I'm just dandy!"
"Pyre–" His mother started again, but he cut her off.
"I'm gonna go outside. I'll be back." Turning on his heel, Pyre made a bee-line for one of the doors that lead to a gardened area outside.
Pyre
Andrews
Phaedra
Dahlia
- Posting Speed
- Multiple posts per week
- 1-3 posts per week
- One post per week
- Slow As Molasses
- Writing Levels
- Adept
- Advanced
- Adaptable
- Preferred Character Gender
- Nonbinary
- Primarily Prefer Male
- No Preferences
#2 A FIERY FIGHT —
In downtown Estermouth, tucked away between other old and crumbling buildings, sat a run-down looking fitness center. The outside of it was honestly very poor looking; The front windows were tinted, the building was sad and looked like it hadn't been kept up with in years, even the sidewalks outside of it were cracked and half not there anymore. Admittedly and truthfully, it looked like it might've seen better days, like no one ever even stepped foot into the building, but for Pyre it was a place he could spend all day at.
The outside had never looked pretty, but there was a charm it had held for Pyre. Plus, the inside had always looked much nicer, clean and well kept. And it was never not busy, people were always coming and going.
Walking in, the first thing someone could note that there was always crisp, cool air hitting their face (upon Pyre's request), and then to one side a plethora of punching bags, weights, and fitness machinery, to the other side one could find a somewhat makeshift boxing ring with a few metal chairs sitting around. Granted, the chairs were rarely ever sat in, people typically preferred to stand around while watching whoever was in the ring.
Pyre was normally always one of the bodies in the ring, sometimes teaching whoever wanted lessons in ways they could protect themselves and deal some damage, sometimes fighting whatever willing participant that had stepped up. Besides, hitting things (or someone) was oddly therapeutic for them– It always had been since he was young and first started training, but something about it especially hit differently now. Weirdly satisfying… Even more so when his temper would start to rise a little too high.
Today was one of those days– At least partially. One of those days where Pyre was starting too much, even for themself. They found themself far more jittery than usual, unable to sit still for no more than thirty seconds, and his coworkers were starting to see it too.
"Jesus, dude- Can you stop for like five seconds? I can't think." One of the new hires at the center sat at the round welcome desk, Pyre having been talking her ear off for the last half hour.
Pyre who–wearing a white cropped shirt with the sleeves cut off and black joggers, with his hair half pulled up and out of his face–had been leaning against the desk, faltered and paused in his ramblings. He blinked at her and her terrible blue dye job, frowning as he pushed off from the desk and straightened. "Right. So sorry to inconvenience you." He grumbled under his breath, starting to turn away just as someone walked in through the door. Admittedly, Pyre brightened seeing one of his regular trainees–A dark haired, cocky son of a bitch who stood nearly half a foot taller than him–already grinning, ready to run his mouth.
"Ah, I didn't think we had a session today?"
"We don't, but I was feeling particularly lucky today…"
Pyre's head tilted in confusion as a brow rose up in question.
"Waddya say, little flame? Wanna hop into that ring so you can finally make friends with the floor?"
A sudden grin tugged at the corners of the red-head's mouth at the implication, little orange-y wisps of hair that didn't get pulled back falling into his face. "You think you're going to beat me, and it never happens. Today gonna be the day you finally do it?" Pyre rolled back his shoulders, tilting his head from side to side to crack his neck before motioning towards the ring. "Let's see then, hmm?"
"Oh boy. Careful, hun, your little trainer boy is way too wired today." The new hire called over her desk as Pyre and his now opponent started to meander towards the ring.
There wasn't a day that went by that Pyre would willingly back away from a fight if it presented itself.
With that being that, Pyre waved off his coworker with the show of a middle finger, both occupants finally ducking under the ropes of the ring after gathering their gloves and mouth guards. Other occupants of the gym glanced up, slowly starting to wander towards the ring with interest.
"Hey, kid, I won't go easy on you, so don't go crying to Mommy and Daddy when you get beat." The man shrugged and grinned largely.
A snort came from the red-head as they rolled their eyes, pulling gloves onto their hands. "If anything, I'll be going home to my boyfriend, boasting how I beat you."
Brown eyes trailed their opponent's movements, watching him speak once more. "Best out of three?" He offered, Pyre only giving a small nod of his head in agreement as he popped in his mouth piece. Their opponent followed suit, and very quickly did they adjust their stances.
Both individuals moved on their feet, Pyre quicker and lighter while their opponent was ever slightly slower, even heavier on his feet. It was easy to guess his movements, but when some of his hits and jabs did land they were hard. Granted, Pyre also taught his trainees how to hit hard first before teaching them to be quick.
Sweat was beginning to form on their forehead, those little flaming wisps of orange starting to stick to their skin. By now a crowd, one he had failed to notice before, formed around the ring, falling into idle, buzzing chatter like obnoxious flies, watching and waiting. Pyre's attention briefly wavered off of his opponent, flickering across the gym and meeting dark blue. His dad.
Ah, shit. Why was he here?
A gloved fist brushed Pyre's cheek, reeling them back into the fight at hand. However, by the time they returned back to his opponent, his other gloved fist met the red-head nose. A loud crack sounded and Pyre staggered back a little. The room fell silent with baited breath as a warmth started to dribble from their nose, splattering on the mat under them.
One point to their opponent, then.
Pyre wiped at their nose with the back of their forearm, smearing blood on their cheek and arm. They adjusted their feet, moving into a comfortable stance and holding their fists up. Their opponent had a smirk hinting on their features, a sudden desperate need to knock off this guy's look.
Their brows furrowed and their eyes narrowed, teeth gritting in annoyance. Why the fuck was their dad here? What could the old man possibly want this time??
As Pyre's thoughts flipped through annoyance and anger, an orange spark lit in their eyes making them look like little burning embers. Heat radiated off their skin more than usual, steam rising from their forehead as sweat evaporated. Pyre threw a quick punch at their opponent's shoulder as distraction before they're other fist came flying up, clocking the man straight in the jaw. He stumbled backwards, losing his balance and falling back into the ropes of the ring.
A triumphant feeling began to swell up in the hero's chest as they stepped back, removing their gloves and spitting out their mouth piece. "Might wanna ice that, buddy. Sorry I can't do it for ya, I only do it for—"
"Pyre Jameson!"
In downtown Estermouth, tucked away between other old and crumbling buildings, sat a run-down looking fitness center. The outside of it was honestly very poor looking; The front windows were tinted, the building was sad and looked like it hadn't been kept up with in years, even the sidewalks outside of it were cracked and half not there anymore. Admittedly and truthfully, it looked like it might've seen better days, like no one ever even stepped foot into the building, but for Pyre it was a place he could spend all day at.
The outside had never looked pretty, but there was a charm it had held for Pyre. Plus, the inside had always looked much nicer, clean and well kept. And it was never not busy, people were always coming and going.
Walking in, the first thing someone could note that there was always crisp, cool air hitting their face (upon Pyre's request), and then to one side a plethora of punching bags, weights, and fitness machinery, to the other side one could find a somewhat makeshift boxing ring with a few metal chairs sitting around. Granted, the chairs were rarely ever sat in, people typically preferred to stand around while watching whoever was in the ring.
Pyre was normally always one of the bodies in the ring, sometimes teaching whoever wanted lessons in ways they could protect themselves and deal some damage, sometimes fighting whatever willing participant that had stepped up. Besides, hitting things (or someone) was oddly therapeutic for them– It always had been since he was young and first started training, but something about it especially hit differently now. Weirdly satisfying… Even more so when his temper would start to rise a little too high.
Today was one of those days– At least partially. One of those days where Pyre was starting too much, even for themself. They found themself far more jittery than usual, unable to sit still for no more than thirty seconds, and his coworkers were starting to see it too.
"Jesus, dude- Can you stop for like five seconds? I can't think." One of the new hires at the center sat at the round welcome desk, Pyre having been talking her ear off for the last half hour.
Pyre who–wearing a white cropped shirt with the sleeves cut off and black joggers, with his hair half pulled up and out of his face–had been leaning against the desk, faltered and paused in his ramblings. He blinked at her and her terrible blue dye job, frowning as he pushed off from the desk and straightened. "Right. So sorry to inconvenience you." He grumbled under his breath, starting to turn away just as someone walked in through the door. Admittedly, Pyre brightened seeing one of his regular trainees–A dark haired, cocky son of a bitch who stood nearly half a foot taller than him–already grinning, ready to run his mouth.
"Ah, I didn't think we had a session today?"
"We don't, but I was feeling particularly lucky today…"
Pyre's head tilted in confusion as a brow rose up in question.
"Waddya say, little flame? Wanna hop into that ring so you can finally make friends with the floor?"
A sudden grin tugged at the corners of the red-head's mouth at the implication, little orange-y wisps of hair that didn't get pulled back falling into his face. "You think you're going to beat me, and it never happens. Today gonna be the day you finally do it?" Pyre rolled back his shoulders, tilting his head from side to side to crack his neck before motioning towards the ring. "Let's see then, hmm?"
"Oh boy. Careful, hun, your little trainer boy is way too wired today." The new hire called over her desk as Pyre and his now opponent started to meander towards the ring.
There wasn't a day that went by that Pyre would willingly back away from a fight if it presented itself.
With that being that, Pyre waved off his coworker with the show of a middle finger, both occupants finally ducking under the ropes of the ring after gathering their gloves and mouth guards. Other occupants of the gym glanced up, slowly starting to wander towards the ring with interest.
"Hey, kid, I won't go easy on you, so don't go crying to Mommy and Daddy when you get beat." The man shrugged and grinned largely.
A snort came from the red-head as they rolled their eyes, pulling gloves onto their hands. "If anything, I'll be going home to my boyfriend, boasting how I beat you."
Brown eyes trailed their opponent's movements, watching him speak once more. "Best out of three?" He offered, Pyre only giving a small nod of his head in agreement as he popped in his mouth piece. Their opponent followed suit, and very quickly did they adjust their stances.
Both individuals moved on their feet, Pyre quicker and lighter while their opponent was ever slightly slower, even heavier on his feet. It was easy to guess his movements, but when some of his hits and jabs did land they were hard. Granted, Pyre also taught his trainees how to hit hard first before teaching them to be quick.
Sweat was beginning to form on their forehead, those little flaming wisps of orange starting to stick to their skin. By now a crowd, one he had failed to notice before, formed around the ring, falling into idle, buzzing chatter like obnoxious flies, watching and waiting. Pyre's attention briefly wavered off of his opponent, flickering across the gym and meeting dark blue. His dad.
Ah, shit. Why was he here?
A gloved fist brushed Pyre's cheek, reeling them back into the fight at hand. However, by the time they returned back to his opponent, his other gloved fist met the red-head nose. A loud crack sounded and Pyre staggered back a little. The room fell silent with baited breath as a warmth started to dribble from their nose, splattering on the mat under them.
One point to their opponent, then.
Pyre wiped at their nose with the back of their forearm, smearing blood on their cheek and arm. They adjusted their feet, moving into a comfortable stance and holding their fists up. Their opponent had a smirk hinting on their features, a sudden desperate need to knock off this guy's look.
Their brows furrowed and their eyes narrowed, teeth gritting in annoyance. Why the fuck was their dad here? What could the old man possibly want this time??
As Pyre's thoughts flipped through annoyance and anger, an orange spark lit in their eyes making them look like little burning embers. Heat radiated off their skin more than usual, steam rising from their forehead as sweat evaporated. Pyre threw a quick punch at their opponent's shoulder as distraction before they're other fist came flying up, clocking the man straight in the jaw. He stumbled backwards, losing his balance and falling back into the ropes of the ring.
A triumphant feeling began to swell up in the hero's chest as they stepped back, removing their gloves and spitting out their mouth piece. "Might wanna ice that, buddy. Sorry I can't do it for ya, I only do it for—"
"Pyre Jameson!"
Pyre
NPC
NPC
Andrews
- Posting Speed
- Multiple posts per week
- 1-3 posts per week
- One post per week
- Slow As Molasses
- Writing Levels
- Adept
- Advanced
- Adaptable
- Preferred Character Gender
- Nonbinary
- Primarily Prefer Male
- No Preferences
#3 THE DAY I LOST EVERYTHING —
The day everything had changed… No word about it… Nothing. No fucking warning or anything.
It could be remembered so vividly if they sat down in a few moments of silence. That day was filled with manic, too many hushed words and rushed interactions. It was full of dread and feelings of guilt, worry, and doubt...
It was just barely past one o'clock in the afternoon and Pyre had only been asleep (finally) for no more than ten, maybe fifteen, minutes when a soft knock sounded. Their eyes snapped open almost instantly, making an exhausted grumble of annoyance as their initial response. Breathing out a heavy sigh, they rolled over in bed to face the closed door of their bedroom. "Phaedra, what could you possibly want from me?"
There was a brief pause of silence before the door finally cracked open to reveal a girl with short red hair and matching brown eyes. She looked nervous and timid, which was so rare for her, but Pyre had failed to note her behavior immediately. "Are you decent? We need to talk."
"Like… Morally? Or are you asking if I have pants on?"
Phaedra's anxieties fell for a moment, frowning at her sibling's response and rolling her eyes at him. "Pants."
Pyre gave a lopsided grin Phaedra didn't return like she normally would have. His brows knit together, confusion starting to write on the red-head's features as he moved to sit up. He patted an empty spot on his bed. "Okay… You're being weird… What's up?" He spoke slowly, unfortunately wide awake now.
For a moment the red-haired girl hesitated before finally slipping into the room, quietly shutting the door behind her with a soft click. "I want you to hear this from me before dad tells you… Because you know how he is–"
She was prolonging whatever she had to say. "Phae, will you spit it out? Goodness–"
The girl breathed out a long and heavy sigh, nervously running her fingers through her hair as she crossed the room and plopped down on the edge of the bed. Her eyes avoided her brother, cast down towards her hands as she picked at her cuticles. She bit the inside of her cheek, unsure how to even start.
"Phae–"
"Lixue is missing."
A silence suddenly casted over the room. An uncomfortable silence that made Phaedra shift, dreading a response.
"What? What do you mean 'missing'?"
"Do you not know what missing means? No one can find him." Phaedra spoke, her tone a weird mix of softness and harshness. As she took the risk of actually looking back at her brother she could see the number of emotions crossing and mingling with each other in their eyes and on their face.
An uneasy, doubting laugh tumbled out of their mouth. "No, no, you're wrong! I literally just talked to him yesterday and-and everything was fine! He seemed fine–" Words flowed quickly out of their mouth, cringing inwardly at the lie. Things were not fine. But, Pyre would die on that hill and convince themself otherwise.
"Peej, hey-" Phaedra reached a hand out towards Pyre, but pulled it back ever so quickly at the sheer amount of heat radiating off of him. Panic had taken the look in his eyes, his movements quick as he reached and fumbled around for his phone that'd been lost in his bed. She watched his thumbs move quickly against the screen, and then his face fell and his eyes started to glisten as tears started to form.
Pyre held his phone out to his sister, guilt knotting in the depths of his stomach. Under a brief message that had been sent to the contact: LIXUE
, another message appeared.
Phaedra's features softened dramatically, tearing her eyes away from the screen to look at her brother's face. "Pyre, I–"
"Did he leave anything? Like a note… Anything??"
She shook her head slowly, but that was the wrong answer it seemed. Pyre's feelings only worsened, looking like he was about to vomit with the amount of guilt and panic he was experiencing.
"Why would he do that? We- We're supposed to be best friends and tell each other everything! I- He can't just be gone! I-I need him, Phae–"
"Pyre–"
"I think… I think I love him."
The day everything had changed… No word about it… Nothing. No fucking warning or anything.
It could be remembered so vividly if they sat down in a few moments of silence. That day was filled with manic, too many hushed words and rushed interactions. It was full of dread and feelings of guilt, worry, and doubt...
It was just barely past one o'clock in the afternoon and Pyre had only been asleep (finally) for no more than ten, maybe fifteen, minutes when a soft knock sounded. Their eyes snapped open almost instantly, making an exhausted grumble of annoyance as their initial response. Breathing out a heavy sigh, they rolled over in bed to face the closed door of their bedroom. "Phaedra, what could you possibly want from me?"
There was a brief pause of silence before the door finally cracked open to reveal a girl with short red hair and matching brown eyes. She looked nervous and timid, which was so rare for her, but Pyre had failed to note her behavior immediately. "Are you decent? We need to talk."
"Like… Morally? Or are you asking if I have pants on?"
Phaedra's anxieties fell for a moment, frowning at her sibling's response and rolling her eyes at him. "Pants."
Pyre gave a lopsided grin Phaedra didn't return like she normally would have. His brows knit together, confusion starting to write on the red-head's features as he moved to sit up. He patted an empty spot on his bed. "Okay… You're being weird… What's up?" He spoke slowly, unfortunately wide awake now.
For a moment the red-haired girl hesitated before finally slipping into the room, quietly shutting the door behind her with a soft click. "I want you to hear this from me before dad tells you… Because you know how he is–"
She was prolonging whatever she had to say. "Phae, will you spit it out? Goodness–"
The girl breathed out a long and heavy sigh, nervously running her fingers through her hair as she crossed the room and plopped down on the edge of the bed. Her eyes avoided her brother, cast down towards her hands as she picked at her cuticles. She bit the inside of her cheek, unsure how to even start.
"Phae–"
"Lixue is missing."
A silence suddenly casted over the room. An uncomfortable silence that made Phaedra shift, dreading a response.
"What? What do you mean 'missing'?"
"Do you not know what missing means? No one can find him." Phaedra spoke, her tone a weird mix of softness and harshness. As she took the risk of actually looking back at her brother she could see the number of emotions crossing and mingling with each other in their eyes and on their face.
An uneasy, doubting laugh tumbled out of their mouth. "No, no, you're wrong! I literally just talked to him yesterday and-and everything was fine! He seemed fine–" Words flowed quickly out of their mouth, cringing inwardly at the lie. Things were not fine. But, Pyre would die on that hill and convince themself otherwise.
"Peej, hey-" Phaedra reached a hand out towards Pyre, but pulled it back ever so quickly at the sheer amount of heat radiating off of him. Panic had taken the look in his eyes, his movements quick as he reached and fumbled around for his phone that'd been lost in his bed. She watched his thumbs move quickly against the screen, and then his face fell and his eyes started to glisten as tears started to form.
Pyre held his phone out to his sister, guilt knotting in the depths of his stomach. Under a brief message that had been sent to the contact: LIXUE
, another message appeared.SMS ERROR: The phone number you are trying to reach is no longer in service.
Phaedra's features softened dramatically, tearing her eyes away from the screen to look at her brother's face. "Pyre, I–"
"Did he leave anything? Like a note… Anything??"
She shook her head slowly, but that was the wrong answer it seemed. Pyre's feelings only worsened, looking like he was about to vomit with the amount of guilt and panic he was experiencing.
"Why would he do that? We- We're supposed to be best friends and tell each other everything! I- He can't just be gone! I-I need him, Phae–"
"Pyre–"
"I think… I think I love him."
Pyre
Phaedra
- Posting Speed
- Multiple posts per week
- 1-3 posts per week
- One post per week
- Slow As Molasses
- Writing Levels
- Adept
- Advanced
- Adaptable
- Preferred Character Gender
- Nonbinary
- Primarily Prefer Male
- No Preferences
#4 BUT... WHAT IF IN ANOTHER UNIVERSE? —
What if it had been Pyre?
Somewhere in another timeline, in another universe and world it was the ever so "great" Pyre Astrophel that broke down and gave up. They were the one to leave everything behind one late night in the midst of summer.
They would've left behind a loving mother, a caring sister, a best friend that had been kept so dear to their heart for years. They would have left everything they'd known for the past decade all behind them, like it simply meant nothing to them. All the training? All the bruises and cuts? Nothing but a vague memory then.
Blurry faces that would continue to smile and laugh without them.
Pyre would have given up heroism for a life filled with uncontrolled powers and wild fires, embracing a home of unknown surroundings and faces that would not know him. He would try to forget everyone he once loved and cared for, only to be alone and quietly observe how regular people seemed to function in a "normal" world.
Five years later, a small piece of them would call them back home; Back to where their everything was. Would they be back as a villain of sorts? Maybe an anti-hero? Or maybe, they're simply just trying to blend into the background to see where everyone was in life since their disappearance?
Pyre wouldn't be Pyre. Instead, he'd find himself having everyone call him Phineas despite how much he always despised the name. He wouldn't be the all famous Astrophel either, he wouldn't know who he'd be anymore exactly… But Pyre Astrophel was dead.
Phineas would find himself lingering around though, finding himself comfortable in a job as some rookie boxer.
And finally and somehow suddenly, find himself becoming a pest in his life. He'd taunt, and jab and tease, but he'd be back in his life. Maybe not as a friend any longer, but as a much awaited lover.
"In another universe, our roles are reversed… You are the one who survived and I am nothing but a half-remembered gravestone." — Anonymous
What if it had been Pyre?
Somewhere in another timeline, in another universe and world it was the ever so "great" Pyre Astrophel that broke down and gave up. They were the one to leave everything behind one late night in the midst of summer.
They would've left behind a loving mother, a caring sister, a best friend that had been kept so dear to their heart for years. They would have left everything they'd known for the past decade all behind them, like it simply meant nothing to them. All the training? All the bruises and cuts? Nothing but a vague memory then.
Blurry faces that would continue to smile and laugh without them.
Pyre would have given up heroism for a life filled with uncontrolled powers and wild fires, embracing a home of unknown surroundings and faces that would not know him. He would try to forget everyone he once loved and cared for, only to be alone and quietly observe how regular people seemed to function in a "normal" world.
Five years later, a small piece of them would call them back home; Back to where their everything was. Would they be back as a villain of sorts? Maybe an anti-hero? Or maybe, they're simply just trying to blend into the background to see where everyone was in life since their disappearance?
Pyre wouldn't be Pyre. Instead, he'd find himself having everyone call him Phineas despite how much he always despised the name. He wouldn't be the all famous Astrophel either, he wouldn't know who he'd be anymore exactly… But Pyre Astrophel was dead.
Phineas would find himself lingering around though, finding himself comfortable in a job as some rookie boxer.
And finally and somehow suddenly, find himself becoming a pest in his life. He'd taunt, and jab and tease, but he'd be back in his life. Maybe not as a friend any longer, but as a much awaited lover.
((Silly and fun things from my thoughts, but less scattered and all over the place!))