Fantasy Petal Plucking Theory

[CherryPetalTea]

Petal Plucking Theory
[private]
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CherryPetalTea atomic
Plot Base:
[will be added in a bit]

Spoiler: Character Form

Agnes Feld
Age: 25
Height: 5' 7"
Appearance
Agnes is somewhat skinny for his height but not overly so. His skin
happens to be a pale white but with a honey hue, giving him a very warm appearance.
The same warmth follows even up to his eyes which are a soft and pale green with a darker
grey limbal ring. Upon closer inspection it's easier to notice that a faint amber ring seems to
outline his pupils as a form of heterochromia - following along with the splashes and speckles
of a darker amber against the green. His hair is a very light honey blond that falls to his shoulders,
the strands not straight but rather in messy waves. Just like his hair, his eyebrows are about the same
colour, just darker. Agnes' face itself has a sharp but also kind look to it, as his jaw is pretty
defined and while his cheeks are just a bit hollow, the higher bones just make him seem all the more kind.
Personality: The young man is rather warm to people for the most part. Of course he isn't constantly
the "kindest" person. Agnes happens to have his fair amount of sass and attitude which isn't
something that happens to help with the fact he already gets easily annoyed. Though most of
the time he seems to fly by just being a "cool" sort of guy. Some bits of his personality seem
to lack in showing his empathy towards others.

Agnes has quite a bit of his own pride. While he lacks a decent ego and doesn't
trust in himself that much that doesn't take out his competitive side nor the part
of him that is usually quite protective of other people.

Powers
"Gravity"
Agnes was familiar with the stranger side of himself at a young age but
everything he could possibly do at that age was harmless and easy to slip
by with. It wasn't until he was older that he reached the stage in which those
harmless things became less harmless. As he grew older he began to take on
understanding of the world and that "special abilities" didn't just belong to him.

So he began to practice or to well . . . try. He doesn't have a good grip of his abilities.
Not in the slightest. What he's learned so far is that as long as a part of himself can get on
an object (whether it be something just as small and insignificant as dead skin) he can defy
the logical pull of gravity on it but not only that he seems to have control of mass- or at least
that's what he thinks on it. He's aware he can cause things to either get pressed to the ground
at a force that can't be explained (and the opposite) along with the fact he can, well, it seems he
can make things get heavier. He isn't sure whether it's just truly him messing with just gravity itself
or if he's completely changing an object.

Notes: Only works on nonliving things - and so far only small things. Isn't certain where the
extra energy to make up something comes from but it has to come from somewhere. He
is also a complete mess with his powers and has injured himself multiple times during
practice.

Family
Mother: Anna-Sophia Feld (living)
Father: Luca Feld (living)
Siblings: Ellis Feld (deceased)

Other
Agnes lives a mostly private life. His "powers" haven't really played a special part in it.
Meaning, he just goes solidly by Agnes and has no reason to go by otherwise. Along with
this there isn't really anyone who knows about what "special" things he's capable of.

Though, just because he doesn't go by otherwise, doesn't mean there still aren't people
who call him by other things. He's never gotten away from the teasing of being named
Agnes as it's a rather feminine name. Friends go so far as to call him Annie, Gigi, Nessi, and
many other embarrassing names. While he is surely not even the slightest bit feminine
that hasn't helped him escape from the childish and teasing nicknames.

 

[atomic]

SOLOMON NOX

NICKNAME Sol or his public name Nyhil
AGE AND HEIGHT 25 y/o and 6’0”
BUILD Sol is a bit of a string bean, being thin and and tall.
ETHNICITY Sol is Russian and speaks it fluently, though he’s been living in the US for a long while now, so he’s lost his accent unless he purposefully uses it. Sol will still curse in Russian or if it ever becomes relevant, flatter/endear.
EYES Black and unnerving, so he tends to keep them hidden behind sunglasses.
HAIR Obsidian and typically slicked back to hide the way it fluffs out. Originally, it is curly and medium length, but you wouldn’t know the way he keeps it pinned back and under control every day.

F A M I L Y

FATHER Who? What? I never had a father. That’s ridiculous. (Roman Novakoski - deceased)
MOTHER Galina Novakoski - missing
SIBLINGS Iosif (ee-OH-sif) Novakoski (27) with his twin sister Nika (27).

P O W E R

VOID Sol can use the power of the void to pull things into his voidy realm from the physical realm. He can step through the void and appear somewhere else on the physical realm, though this is dangerous, and he only uses it to jump quickly through around a fight. Sol fights by using his power to dismember, behead, and swallow his enemies into the void. But since he hates blood on his suit, Sol's fighting style is mostly defensive and evasive, choosing to outsmart people instead. Or he'll use a good old fashioned pistol from a safe distance away.

P E R S O N A L I T Y

Solomon thinks he is the absolute shit and works under the assumption that nothing and nobody can get in his way. He believes that he has the looks, the charm, and the sheer intelligence to wipe the floor of any competition. The man was practically born with a sort of elegance and ego. He gives off a suave business-like demeanor and would have at the world while doing away with rest of the normies. Sol can be heartless and cruel at times, pushing himself to always force away his conscience to achieve his goals. But despite his almost trivial view of people’s rights and traditions, the man actually does have a heart. Why else would he allow his siblings to live? He cares deeply for very few things in his life, and the traditional ways of the Novakoski family was never one of those things. Neither was his father.

 

[atomic]

Solomon Nox was known for being somewhat dramatic when he did bad things. Over the years, he’d learned that something wasn’t worth doing if you were going to be boring about it. This is why his siblings were currently wearing bright pink leotards and shamrock hats to celebrate the first few days of March. Solomon, on the other hand, was much more reserved in his typical appearance.

His dark purple suit was slim fitting and hugged his ass just right. His sunglasses, he chose an expensive pair of Ray-Bans today, we’re perched on his his nose as snobbishly as ever. Sol’s hair was slicked back like it always was. He hated if it wasn’t done perfectly on his head. As much as he liked things that weren’t boring, Sol also loved order. His order. He liked to think of it as orderly chaos. What a spectular thing that could be. Anything would be better than the mundane day in and day out bullshit Solomon went through just to pay rent for that hotel he’d bought a few months ago. Yes, the entire thing. He’d named it the Solstice. Because he was just that excessive. In any case, despite the fact that he’d tried to make this bank heist less boring by dressing up his siblings like circus freaks, he still looked incredibly... well, bored. He was bored. Solomon Nox was never not bored.

When he woke up in the morning? He was bored and restless. When he went to sleep at night, he was restless and too bored to sleep. When he hijacked a plane and flew it to the Caribbean, Solomon had been bored. He was such a well established villain, that he was no longer challenged by anybody in this city. Modern media lied, by the way. Just because you lived in a well known city and you struck up a world of trouble, it did not guarantee you an arch nemesis to chase after you and thwart your plans.

And those who sprung up here and there with their own powers were hardly ready to take on a man of his caliber. His splendid-ness. He was simply too good for this world. Sol walked in with his powerful gait, a wicked smile on his face as he took a deep deep breath of the smell of fear. The patrons certainly weren’t ready for Nyhil, or Nothing, to come waltzing in with his merry band of misfits holding their briefcases and guns. Solomon nodded to the left. Iosif followed the command begrudgingly, looking absolutely adorable in his pink little leotard. Solomon then nodded to the right with his ever pleasant smile. Nika obeyed.

Good dogs.

“Good morning, everybody. I’d introduce myself, but you all know who I am, yes?” He gave a little bow, winking at the bank clerk who was stammering, no doubt facing the cornerstone of his life. This was his moment, after all. All he had to do to be a hero was press the alarm at his desk. Oh, he would die for it. And most likely in vain. But they would call him a brave warrior! Just think about the headlines.

MIDDLE-AGED BALDING LUMP OF LARD ATTEMPTS TO THWART SUPER VILLAIN BY PRESSING A BUTTON BEHIND A DESK AND DIES FOR IT.

Solomon might actually read that one. It sounded interesting. But today wasn’t a day he wanted to deal with police so he held up a finger, “Nah-ah-ah. Don’t do it Mr. Lard. Today is not your day to be a hero. Go home. See your family. You do have a family, don’t you? If not, I’d suggest losing the weight. Time’s running out and all.” The bank clerk backed away from the desk. “Fantastic. Now everybody. You know the drill. This is bank robbery. Get on the floor. Or I will have my flamingos excite you promptly.”

And like that, Solomon waited patiently for each and every one of them to get on the floor and do as they were told. None of them looked even a bit un-ordinary. One lady was wearing a green vest that reminded him of the curtains he’d grown up looking at back home in Russia. But other than that, this was going to be just another soul sucking boring boring boring act of villainy. His pride wouldn’t have allowed that man to alert the cops even if that would make things more exciting. So he was stuck with this. He was stuck turning his back to the crowd, starting to open a rift that he could step through to get on the other side of the teller’s gate. Easy. Like stealing candy from a baby. Though he suspected the mother of that baby would be more dangerous than this lot. Tch. Figures.

 

[CherryPetalTea]

Now to say that Agnes Feld lead a boring life would be as false as claiming he had an interesting one. His life was a constant series of him walking on a tightrope at least a few hundred feet in the air. Having never been the most "ordinary" person it was tricky to walk this so called tightrope. At a young age he'd discovered his . . . unique side. Such unique things were small things. Like having a paperclip float or maybe have a helium balloon come crashing down. They were all the kinds of things he could get away with without anyone seeing. It was his "little secret". Even as he got older the secret remained just as small even if the impact of it grew far more than just harmless.

What he could do began to just no longer be child's play. The things he could do began to be things he could no longer control. Sometimes it all went so wrong that he would end up injured. Those injuries would be caused by objects as much as they could be caused from the searing pain that ran through his body when something far more than a small object was lifted in the air. That was one thing he'd learned the hard way. The more energy he used the more he also hurt. After all sometimes it felt like energy itself was just being ripped from him as if it had been a knife. It was one of the main reasons he was confused and even somewhat wary of his own powers- but he wasn't completely scared away. A sense of pride and determination left him wanting to discover more about himself and the powers he possessed.

But with a day like today the wishful thinking about himself wasn't exactly suitable. Adult life had called and Agnes had made his way to the bank to go in for getting a new account of sorts set up. As someone who had his own particular way of keeping things organized this wasn't exactly an uncommon occurrence. He'd been preparing to walk to the exit of the bank when that plan was simply thrown out the window. The man who had just entered the bank . . . spoke the opposite of ordinary. Spoke the opposite of good. So he simply spoke un-ordinary and bad. Swearing his lungs were crumpling inside of himself he could only watch the situation.

His heart and mind were fluttering too fast to make note of the simple things; such as the man's appearance or his words. Most of those things anyways. He knew this man, well, not really. He'd heard of him at least. Who hadn't?

It was only when he began to get on his knees that his mind finally decided to snap out of the "ohmygodpleasehelpi'mgoingtodierightnow" marathon it was participating in. Though he couldn't exactly blame himself since almost everyone else seemed to be stuck in that exact same mental state. His entire body was shaking but it didn't part him from the crowd. After all he looked as normal as everyone else unless one wanted to count the annoyingly colourless blond hair he possessed. He was wearing a simple men's black poplin shirt that was rolled up to his elbows over a pair of dark jeans, the shirt not having even been bothered to be tucked in. The shirt itself was so long it reached mid-thigh anyways, a clear sign that Agnes was not the fanciest of people.

Understandably it took seconds but finally his breathing began to follow a simple pattern. A slow and calm enough pattern to actually allow him to think. As far as he was concerned everyone else in this bank was ordinary, except for, well, the man that was the cause of this hectic situation. Agnes had never wanted to expose himself in front of people, not until he was ready, but it seemed that the world had different plans. With a sharp and slightly shaky breath he peeked from his position on the ground, pale honey locks falling in and shading his vision somewhat. Though he was at a disadvantage from distance and from viewpoint, something within himself was calling. It was the desperate need to do something. To stop this man. To do something no one else had, and maybe, just maybe, have his own ability be useful for something other than himself for once.

As the man finally turned his back, Agnes' mind landed on one simple plan. Doing his best to be quiet and have the most unnoticeable movement he could manage he began to slide his shoes off, along with his socks, just using the opposite foot to do so for each. He was quite aware of the man's "companions" and while he was terrified and a part of himself was screaming to just. stay. put. his chest and heart were roaring something else.

If only I could touch him his brain supplied as he made his choice. Suddenly he was pushing himself up on his feet, the ground underneath him giving away to a million cracks and seeming to break up into the air. That's right. He'd made the stupid, so stupid decision of trying to cross the distance and touch the man's back, thoughts not once seeming to care about the "attack dogs" the man had threatened them with.

 

[atomic]

Sol wouldn’t let anybody know this, but as brilliant as he was, he did tend to have one hell of a weakness. The inability to feel anything that wasn’t physical seemed to extend to his senses. Because of this, Sol didn’t seem ever get those feelings that somebody was watching him. He never got uneasy or had some gut feeling that something was off. And Solomon was a pretty ordinary guy, though this would never be what people thought of him.

His power had been with him since he was a baby, and he’d always found it a little harder to emote or relate to others. To feel things. Thinking about his childhood was never really something he liked to do, especially when his powers started acting up or coming out. There was nothing quite like opening a rift in your bedroom after a nightmare and watching your favorite stuffed animals and toys get sucked into the big black void. Or slightly less traumatic based on his own ability to care, having temper tantrums that caused nannies to go missing one after the other.

He didn’t hear or see or feel the movement in the room behind him. And he would have no reason to suspect anybody was stupid enough to move while his back was turned. Besides! He had Iosif and Nika with their guns trained on the group to disuade any last minute acts of heroism. Naturally, when Iosif barked out a warning, Solomon felt an irrational pang of annoyance at his brother. But it was enough to get him to turn and hop backwards in complete and utter shock at... at..

He held out both hands to his siblings, “Don’t shoot.”

Solomon felt his heart skip a beat from the small small small moment of complete surprise. That never happened! This did not happen. Who in the Heaven’s name was this girl? Sol squinted, holding out his hand, “Not another move, kiddo. And here I was only paying attention to the bank clerk! This is fanstastic. What’s your name?” He looked fascinated, but the smile on his face could easily be misleading.

It would only take one wave of his hand and he could erase this person from existence. Didn’t- Solomon squinted and actually took a step forward so that he was again within arms reach of the other. Obviously, he would have no reason to expect they were anything but ordinary. Still squinting, his smile turned into a frown as he discovered that, no.. no, something was not right with his original observation.

“You’re a guy. How unfortunate for you,” he tsked at the length of this boy’s hair and then straightened his back to continue his observation. The eyes behind the sunglasses fell on his chest just to make sure, but you never knew these days, anyways. “You are, aren’t you? Not that it matters, either way. You might be dead in a few minutes. I’m interested in knowing just what you thought was going to happen to you for being this insanely unintelligent. Do you have a death wish, maybe? Crippling student loans? Were you bored?”

Iosif and Nika were still training their guns on the fool dumb enough to stand up. Sol only looked thoughtful, but he was sure that this moment of something different would be over in a few seconds. The fool would splutter and apologize. Maybe he’d beg for his life, and Sol would oh so graciously allow him to live like the coward he turned out to be. Oh! Maybe he could make this extra fun by killing somebody innocent for no reason. And then Superman, over here, would have to live with the fact that he’d failed. Or he could just kill the guy, but what was the point in that? What was the point of any of this? To pay rent, he supposed.

“Hm? You gonna answer or stare at me? Though, I will say, I don’t mind being stared at.”

 

[CherryPetalTea]

Everything seemed to move about ten times slower as the man suddenly turned around. Agnes hadn't even been aware of the guns pointed at him but he was suddenly now very aware of the man looking at him. His hands found themselves at his sides as his fingers curled into fist. The blond could only swear his heart was in his ears and that his stomach had been eaten away. Though there was a slight tingling under his skin that just seemed to be roaring desire and adrenaline.

Over the thumping in his skull he nearly missed what the man was saying to him but at the same time each word was as definite as the sound of nails on a chalkboard. He could feel his fear being replaced with something more as he certainly wasn't a fan of being called 'kiddo' and it almost seemed like he was being mocked. No it seemed as if he were just being played with.

Agnes could only gather that this man had no fear of him. Of course that was only to be expected but it didn't make him feel any less irritated. He'd made his decision. There was no running away or taking back what he'd just done. He had put himself forward in this battle and he wasn't going to be a coward. A burning pain flared through his right hand and he gritted his teeth. He'd never tried to use his abilities on another person besides himself but now he felt as if he had no choice. Hell, he hadn't even been in a real fight before so he didn't even know what he was doing.

It happened then, the ground. The spaces in which he'd walked on before began to start glowing a brilliant shade of gold. Accompanying this the ground itself began to creak and groan as it seemed to break apart. Each piece it cracked into varied in size but it was in less than a second that the pieces began to fly into the air, all surrounded in that obnoxious golden light. Agnes had never tried moving so much at once before but by sheer luck it seemed he'd been able to manage doing just that. All of it was just part of a distraction, hoping to get everyone's attention on the moving pieces for a few seconds, just something enough to allow him to move without being cornered.

His feet pushed up onto the tips of his toes, the bare skin leaving some of the floor. No matter what he did, it would be all for nothing if he couldn't touch this man or his companion's. Then, just like that, the same glow seemed to envelope himself in an outline but much duller. Within the period of what only seemed to be a second he was off of the ground and then the next second he was on the ceiling. A small sound escaped his throat as his feet smashed against the ceiling way too hard, the impact having most definitely going to leave him with some bruises. In his moments of pain the ground he'd push up earlier began to shower back down, all of it falling out of his control.

Only able to hope that the shards hadn't hit anyone innocent he suddenly shifted his own gravity once more, aiming to make himself heavier, to hit the ground plenty faster. It was the only plan that came to mind. If he could make himself fall at a fast enough force then the man couldn't defend himself, right? He shouldn't even be able to see the impact coming. Okay so maybe using himself as basically a human bullet wasn't the best idea but Agnes struggled with the strong desire to send the possible hardest kick to that man's face and if this was how he was going to do it, so be it.

The air whistled in his ears as he crashed downwards, having reversed once more to have his feet aiming towards the ground or more specifically, that man. Agnes' hair flew up in a perfect copy of a lion's mane, luckily staying out of his vision as the ground came closer at an unimaginable speed. It was only during that moment that then it dawned on him: that this had been a really damn bad idea.

 

[atomic]

Weakness number two. Solomon could only use his power as quickly as he was able to react, build up the energy within him, and send it out to rip open a vacuous empty rift in the physical realm. But we’ll get to why this sucked in a little bit. For now, Sol was still waiting for a response and he was a little disappointed when he got none. Of course he wouldn’t. Who would be dumb enough to tell the bad guy any information about themselves?

Well, for one, Sol was kind of betting that if anybody was that dumb, it would be this guy. Now that he no longer believed he was a girl, Solomon found himself really looking at the other. His eyes were something else. And while the hair was blond and bright, he could do without the chaotic way it framed his face. He was a little shorter than, Solomon. That was cool. Now he could really abuse this whole ‘kiddo’ angle which seemed to really annoy him.

They seemed around the same age but looks could always be deceiving. He was about to learn this the hard way. The boy’s silence seemed to make a lot more sense the second the floor started shifting. He purses his lips, glancing around and at his siblings. Iosif shrugged, barking out in his abrasive low voice, “Can I shoot him now?” Solomon figured that would probably be a good idea, yeah.

Because, “Well, well, well. The people in this city never really do cease to surprise me. And what’s this? Telekinesis? Fun.” Nika stepped forward only to receive a growled out order from Solomon to stay put. This fucker was his to deal with. And, speaking of the fucker, he still hadn’t said a word to Solomon and couldn’t possibly know how annoyed that made him. He stretched his fingers, preparing to be rid of the nuisance, but waited just a second longer.

This was why being him was no longer satisfying. He knew that no matter hard anything tried, he was just too good at being the bad guy. What good was any power when Solomon could just swallow a hero and be rid of him in the suffocating void. Maybe... maybe this is what he was waiting for. Maybe he wouldn’t kill this guy. He looked young. Then again, Solomon looked young but he also acted like he had a stick up his ass. So... he seemed older. More mature.

But he really was just a twenty-five year old guy who felt completely unstimulated every day of his boring life with his boring power that just sucked the fun out of everything. So he made the mistake of not killing this guy. What happened next had his head reeling. It was like lightning, combined with the flash of gold and the blond hair. The shards of flooring rained down on him and he before he even knew what was happening or could think to counter, Solomon’s eyes widened in legitimate shock.

He opened a rift just beneath his feet, dropping into it and like the game, Portal (where he got the idea to use his power like this), he was dropping from a rift seven feet above the floor and a few feet away from where he’d just been. To his left, he heard the impact and it didn’t sound promising. Though, Solomon also fell to the floor in a heap, but he’d done so at a normal velocity so he was only left a little dazed and confused. That was.... that was close. Too close.

He heard footsteps and while Solomon’s vision was still blurry, he could see people making a run for it. Iosif was looking like he was about to have a panic attack. Nika had run to Solomon and was touching his shoulder. The contact burned before he hissed and pulled away, giving her a look. “Let them go,” he waved his hand in frustration, pushing himself into a sitting position. With dust on his suit and a cut - an honest to god cut - in his temple, Solomon picked up his glasses, put them on, and turned his head to see just how much damage the idiot had managed to do to himself. He was kind of hoping for a lot, honestly.

 

[CherryPetalTea]

While he had come up with a plan he had not come up with a solution if his plan were to fail. There was no time to prepare himself for the impact. His only slight cushion (the man) was gone just like that. Even if he had time to change gravity for himself he certainly didn't have the energy to make such an abrupt change. Out of fear and regret Agnes' closed his eyes. Everything seemed to slow down as his head was filled with a thump thump . . . thump. His heartbeat was roaring inside of him as the world around him became nothing but muffled background noise.

The impact happened just like that. His bare feet hit first only to be followed by a quiet cracking sound. Agnes had no way of preventing his legs from bending under him, kneecaps slamming into the solid floor and creating a noise that was anything but pretty. But the force wasn't done yet as it continued to carry him to the ground; ribs, chest, collarbones, and the left side of his face becoming the unfortunate parts of him that were met with the direct impact. For a long moment everything seemed to still. All he could hear was the remnants of the loud cracking that had seemed to resonate from every bone in his body followed by a sharp and piercing ring.

It was then he noticed he couldn't breathe. Such an impact was responsible for knocking all of the breathe out of his lungs. Even so his body was giving so many signals that he couldn't logically think that through and began to panic. All he knew was that he couldn't breathe. A strangled and choked sound left him in a desperate call for air but it only left him coughing with short, desperate breaths. Fire and needles were filling his lungs and crawling through his skin, digging into his bones. Agnes could only lay there pathetically, clothes an absolute mess. Liquid red was beginning to seep into the blond strands on the left side of his head which only gave a sign of a clear head injury. It seemed to not be the only place with broken skin as the colour was making itself known along his feet and knees.

Agnes' entire body shuddered in a desperate and confused attempt to move. The longer he laid there the more he began to process his pains, the strength of it almost making him feel like he was going to empty everything in his stomach onto the floor. Luckily, he managed to keep it all down. His breaths crackled and rasped as his right arm began to slide under his chest, shaking with the effort as he started to try and left his head and chest up, at least as high as his arm would allow him to do when relying on it.

Now it wouldn't be long until the full brunt of the pain hit, and there'd be no covering the fact that he'd probably end up crying like a child in reaction. But, it just wasn't time for that yet. Somehow he angled his head to the point in which he could stare at the man, the one he had missed, the one who he was so desperate to bring to much pain as himself.

Agnes found his legs were mostly proving to be useless then but that didn't stop him from using his other arm and forcing himself to start sitting up. He wasn't going to stop moving, no. All he could tell himself was that he wasn't done yet despite the fact that any energy or strength he had, had been practically wiped out. The soft green eyes of his were filled with an unnatural glow, one that was swimming with pain, pleads, and fury, all of it focused on this one man.

 

[atomic]

Pride was a funny thing. Solomon would have possibly parodied the story of Icarus when he was younger if he hadn’t proven to be more ambitious, smarter, and sensible than that dumb boy. It was for that reason that Iosif and Nika were his loving faithful goons to complete the whole Super Villain vibe he had going on. They were older and their powers were far better than his, but Solomon was the one people knew about.

He wouldn’t have let this brat lay a finger on him if he’d known. Why hadn’t he known? He should be far past allowing people to get the drop on him. Yet, here he was, ass planted on the bank’s stone floor. Solomon lifted a finger up to his temple, bringing his hand in front of his eyes to stare at the crimson stain. How? How?! Solomon couldn’t remember the last time he’d bled. Well, he could, but he would adamantly insist that he’d never been scratched!

After getting a good long look at the blood on his fingers, Sol huffed in annoyance and pushed himself to stand. Weakness number three. Solomon has a bad leg. He had a bad leg that caused him to wince in intense pain at the impact falling from the bank ceiling (more or less) had on it. “You alright, Sol?” Nika asked, looking at the leg which she knew very well was in pain. He glared at her, “Wouldn’t you love to know.”

His sister frowned and crossed her arms at him, no longer looking very concerned about his well being. That’s better. At that, Sol turned his attention to the man of the hour. The brat. The kiddo. The man he was certainly going to choke to death with his powers. The void could both be devestatingly destructive and intricate at the same time. Like a thin needle or an explosion. Solomon only had to do the weaving. But the closer he got, the more apparent it became that he would likely only have to flick the brat in the forehead to watch him keel over.

It was a pathetic sight, really. One that he found no sympathy for because those who were too weak to carry the burden they claimed they could handle didn’t deserve sympathy. Perhaps if this fool had been one of the clueless humans that shot at him with their gu— Oh wait... I’m human. He had to remember that sometimes. He fixed his thoughts. If it were a boring ordinary human, he might pity it. But this guy should know better!

He should have known he couldn’t handle a fight with Solomon Nox. And even if he thought he could take on Sol, he should have never tried a move like that. Solomon would have never pulled something that self destructive on an enemy he knew nothing about. He couldn’t really understand the motive. There was movement behind the counter and Solomon shot a look at the bank teller that hadn’t yet run away. “Shoot him.”

Without hesitation, Iosif raised one of his pistols and shot the bank teller in the face. And to think, Solomon had been so generous to let him live earlier. He was going to let them all live! Because come on, he was only human. And he might have sociopathic tendencies every now and again, but that didn’t mean you had to be so excessive! So dramatic. Solomon blew a raspberry and heaved a long tired sigh that almost sounded scolding.

“What are you doing?” The man folded his arms, watching with a somewhat distraught expression as the power user began to move. Oh God, Solomon couldn’t watch this. It looked like every bone in the brat’s body had been broken. He was surprised he hadn’t killed himself, honestly. So there was that. “Dear lord, brat. Please, you’re embarrassing yourself. You’ve already paid for your mistake. Do you think Mr. Lard had a family he wanted to go home to when he decided to not. be. an. idiot?”

Sol took a step back, expressing only minimal surprise as the brat perservered. Fine. If that’s how the other wanted this to go, who was Solomon to stop him? Let’s see what else this poor kid had in him. Something paused in Sol when he met those eyes, however. So full of emotion and fury. Filled with it. And something in the room felt heavy. Solomon felt.. he felt... and it cause him to take another step back in... fear or shock. No! No, that couldn’t be right. “What the hell is wrong with you? J-just stop. Stop this idealistic nonsense. You’re nearly dead.”

 

[CherryPetalTea]

The gunshot was brutal. It crossed through his thoughts and bit at the haze in his brain. He was too exhausted to flinch. Too exhausted to fully react. Though he'd gotten the message; that the cause for the person's death was his fault because he had failed. Slowly, shakily, Agnes breathed in. It rattled and it hurt but he knew that he had to try to breathe, and do it calmly. Fingers curling and scratching against the ground he finally opened his mouth. He'd noticed the taste then. The metallic warmth on his tongue. Ah. A tiny, crimson stream dripped from the corner of his lips, the result of having busted something from the fall. But despite it all he continued to get his jaw moving.

"A . . . And." Agnes broke off with a weak cough that was followed by a crackling breath. He swallowed and winced at the feeling. "You'd be the one close to death if I hadn't missed." No, he wasn't in the position to be making such comments, but it was his only line of attack now. Not that verbal lashes would do much in this situation. With a sharp shove the young blond pushed himself up onto his weak and battered, nearly helpless knees. If his kneecaps could scream he was certain they'd be announcing a chorus of foul language. His other arm instantly wrapped itself just lightly around his ribs as a hiss brushed through his teeth.

Eyes narrowing he just let himself burn for a few seconds then. The pain was devouring him and was flooding his brain with small waves of dizziness. A few small hiccups of silence made their way into his breath- another way of showing his agony. Or maybe it was just a warning of the little time he'd be able to keep himself conscious. Oh. He'd been leaning down. With a small jerk he landed his gaze back on the man.

"Plus if I'm already almost dead . . ." His voice. It was strained, and it was dying, but for now it was there. Although for his eyes they were still burning. "What makes you think that I'll-" His words had been broken off with an ugly sounding cough. Black spots danced and across his vision and made the world spin at thousands of miles per hour. Thank goodness he didn't even have the energy to throw up. But maybe the interruption was the for the best. Agnes didn't know what he wanted to say, as he hadn't really figured out his own choices yet. It was as if his body was acting on its own, or as if he were just an observer of himself. So he didn't have an explanation. He was just doing.

It was only then that he started begging himself to do something. No. He was not going to die with his last words being some trashy and attempted back-talking comment. His injuries had been caused by his own mistake. Continuously his ability hurt him. It would do so over and over again. No way in hell was he going down as if he were a peasant to his power. With that boost and a sudden rush that seemed to dim his pain just for a few seconds he made the most desperate push thinking if he could only get himself off of the ground. But nonetheless, it was just an awful mistake. The sudden movement caused a wave of black spots rather than a few and everything spun and whirled. He'd tried. Tried to get up and make his way over to the man but his attempt had only gotten him to an almost standing position. Nothing more. And then he was falling. Again. Making his miserable way back to the ground he'd just been laying upon.

 

[atomic]

The amused expression had fallen off his lips. He wasn’t sure how he should handle this. He still didn’t really know what those feelings were that had caused him to take a pause and a few steps back. And he didn’t know why he was just standing there, watching the pathetic scene unfold before him. He could only imagine the pain that the brat was in, right now. He didn’t want to imagine it. Well, Solomon could feel one thing. Pain. But he’d gotten used to it over the years.

The constant ache of his leg sometimes drove him into hysterics. Made him restless. And there was no medicine or cure for something like this. There was only pain. But like this brat, he moved through it because what good were you if you couldn’t battle something as trivial as agony? It was almost mesmerizing to watch after the annoyance seemed to fade away. He’d gotten his blood out of Mr. Lard. He’d teased and he’d taunted. But the brat was still a brick wall in the face of it.

Well... a pile of what was left of a brick wall.

Even now, Sol watched bricks fall one by one away from the whole. His comment made Solomon frown. “Well,” he glanced at the crater in the bank floor. The rocks and shards of stone littered around the place. And he continued, “That is true. But... it doesn’t change the fact that you missed anyways. And you have nobody but yourself to blame for this. Where would I be if I hadn’t accounted for my own limitations in life? Certainly not a crippled pathetic mess on a floor.”

Solomon didn’t understand. He didn’t get why this boy of all people was trying so hard to.. to what? What did he hope to accomplish by exhausting what was left of his life out of himself? Iosif took his protective steps forward when against all the odds, the brat made real progress. It was slow. And Solomon should be getting impatient, though he allowed for his new opponent to see this through. Hell, by now, Sol was actually impressed.

“Idiots,” He adressed his siblings, “Take a good look. This pathetic shrimp is already more impressive than either of you have ever been in your entire lives combined.” He could feel them bristling in dislike towards the brat in question. Of course they’d hate a comment like that. It was Solomon who controlled them both. Who had beaten them in a fair fight. He was the top dog in the family. And family stuck together no matter what. Idiots. Didn’t they know that he hated them?

He was watching the brat carefully, waiting for him to fall or pass out. Anything but what he did next, which brought the smallest smallest smile to his lips. How different. This kid was different. And Sol hadn’t had anything different or new or confusing in so long. How could he possibly kill something as rare as that? He didn’t move, not needing to and knowing that this time. He knew what ‘past limits’ looked like. This boy was running on borrowed time. Autopilot.

Sure enough, he watched in unceremonious passiveness as the brat collapsed to the floor. This was when Solomon approached, a frown on his face. He squatted down next to the man, bringing a cold hand to brush hair out of his face and then behind his ear. Solomon sighed, “Well.. you’re cute. Dumb. But cute. Most importantly, you managed to impress me at the the last minute. It’s time to go to sleep now. No promises you’ll feel any better when you wake up.”

And with that, Solomon nudged his arms beneath the mysterious man’s torso and knees, heaving him up with a wince. God, he should have just cut the blasted leg off. He still could. Holding the broken human in his arms, he raised a challenging brow towards his siblings. “What are you still doing here? Go get the the car. He’s not getting any lighter, and between you and me, I’m fairly certain he’s still conscious.”

 

[CherryPetalTea]

Everything had faded into nothing. There had been a void of silence. Even the sound of static was nonexistent. As he'd fallen for the second time his eyes had closed without his permission and he'd thought one thing: 'this is it'. Though that seemed to not be the case as he felt something through the dark world. A gentle humming touch against his forehead. Suddenly the dark world seemed to fog a bit as if losing opacity. He was feeling once again although it was numb. No longer was his body accompanied by sharp needles and pins but rather ticklish feather brushes. Somehow it was almost worse than being in absolute agony.

Agnes had been so focused on the odd feeling that he'd almost missed the words being spoken to him. 'Cute?' His thoughts were a weak echo. No. That couldn't be right. The owner of this voice wouldn't surely be saying something positive towards him. Such things didn't make sense. His thought process was cut off at the sudden weight that was against his legs and pushing against his chest. Oh. There were the needles again. A hitch in his breath was accompanied by the loss of the ground. While the new touch hurt it wasn't bad he decided. His mind was too hazed up to think about what was happening logically. As far as he was concerned the hold on him was rather firm but not rough. Someone had picked him up. So desperately he tried to open his eyes but just couldn't find the energy to do so, taking a breath in that brought him something else other than the smell of his own blood. This other smell was a new one, one he wasn't familiar with. Either way, it didn't seem bad.

At least it didn't seem bad until his brain gained a little more information. The person carrying him. He knew who it was. Agnes' lips slightly parted in a painful attempt to say something but rather than words a sound left his mouth in the form of a weak groan. It hurt too talk and he seemed to nearly be lacking the energy to do so. "Why?" There was supposed to be more to his sentence, but that's all that was able to come out.

It was a sad sight, the line of dried blood that stained the corner of his mouth. Luckily enough it seemed that most of his open injuries had stopped their release of his blood but were still quite a sorry view. Somehow it was almost funny. Who knew that something you walked on all the time could do so much damage? If he could have, he might have laughed. Laughed at his own stupidity. He'd been the one to get himself hurt by slamming into a damn floor using his own ability. The man he'd been planning to attack truly not the cause to any of the damage he had taken.

Despite this appearance his chest seemed to rise at a steady pace. It wasn't fast nor too normal as it was more on the slow side, but it was still happening. Agnes was still breathing despite the cracking sound followed by each inhale and exhale. He was definitely still alive, and it seemed his body hadn't given up yet.

 

[atomic]

Sol covered the struggle to carry the other with a straight face and a determined expression. Iosif and Nika knew he was struggling, but they also knew that’d he lash out if they pointed it out or offered to help. His limp and his leg was a sore spot for Solomon. He didn’t have any control over the pain. But he could handle it, asjusting the brat in his arms as unecerimoniously as could be bothered. It would be too hard for him to be gentle, okay?

Yet, he still let himself be a tiny bit more gentle the second he felt the brat wince. Ah, he didn’t care if he was still in pain. But maybe now he could sympathize with it. Maybe now that the other had tried three times to stand against him and he fallen far past his limit, Sol could sympathize. He may be a cruel and heartless man, but Solomon hadn’t been through a field of puppies and rainbows to get where he was at.

True, he’d never quite been this stupid. But there had been a time when Sol hadn’t had control of his powers. And from what you could tell from his personality, imagine what that felt like? To have something so unique at your fingertips but having no idea how to use it. Solomon’s thoughts were simple. And when he looked down, blinking slowly at the blond hair and fair features, he was surprised to find that the brat was still conscious.

That he could even ask a question. Solomon answered with that rare blunt honesty that he had. “Mm, I’m bored. And I’m going to teach you how to use your powers, so that when you use them against me next time, you’ll defeat me. And you will use them against me. That is the condition.” As if by the time this brat was strong and in control enough, he wouldn’t want to fight Solomon. Yes, what a dumb thought.

Iosif opened the car door for them and Sol winced as he pushed more weight on his leg in order to get the brat into the car with him. Even when they were in, he didn’t set him up in the other seat. No, instead, he kept the other close and made sure that the moving car didn’t jostle his newest interest too much. The brat smelled good. Sol rested his cheek against the top of his head.

“You still awake?” Solomon glanced down at the broken boy against his side. Scowling at the sight of dried blood that was a little gross on lips that should certainly not look gross, he used his thumb to try to wipe most of it away. Though he didn’t want to actually touch too much. “Have you ever felt nothing before? Would you like that? I can do it. I could take away the pain.” He could, but there was a limit. Though, hewoukd definitely try if the other said he wanted it. “I think you might have just broken nearly every one of your bones with that one. Quite a move, though. You were right. Would have been devestating. Just a little more control is all you would have needed.”

 

[CherryPetalTea]

Each word seemed to dig a deeper grave for Agnes. The blond still couldn't quite comprehend the reality of the situation. As it seemed the man was "helping" him by taking him . . . somewhere? Somewhere. An unknown somewhere. What would the man do to him? While his heart should be reasonably crawling with fear, there was none. Maybe he was just simply too tired and hurt to think and feel in a logical way. But, maybe, that was better than being stuck in panic. He just remained limp as the man carried him, putting up his own fight in trying to open his eyes and then actually keep them open. It was only another fight that he was bound to lose.

As the man carrying him sat down he could only manage to let out a pained hiccup, eyebrows furrowing and chest stuttering with a new effort to breathe. Some of that seemed to pause at the weight he now felt at the top of his head. The touch- no, touches didn't seem threatening, and oddly enough, neither did the words spoken. They definitely should have been. Agnes didn't protest against his dying will to move anymore and just focused on slightly shifting his head. There that scent was again. With a small twitch of his nose he just breathed and nothing more for a few moments.

Pain. Be free from it. Was that what the man had said? Some logical part of him was screaming no but his body, oh man. He just wanted to stop feeling all the bad that he was. Unknowingly to himself he'd just been pressing further against the man as all parts of his body had officially reached the point of just letting go. The only thing holding him upright was the person next to him. "Just- it hurts." Words trembled as they spilled from his lips, said in such a way that it would remind anyone of a child. At this point he no longer had a barrier for his words, he just spoke. There wasn't a filter. He could only announce his pain, because there wasn't any other coherent thing running through his brain.

Agnes seemed to be somewhat slipping then. The world had gone back to being muffled and quiet. No, he didn't understand. He just hoped that whatever was happening would lead him to peace, away from this pain, even if just for a moment. Something temporary. Like sleep. Maybe a good, long rest. Long enough to where he'd avoid pain upon awakening. Of course, it was nothing but wishful and hazy thinking.

 

[atomic]

As the car ride began, Solomon kept an arm around the other a little reluctantly. Well, at first it was reluctant. Come now, he was surely above holding a bloody broken mess close to his side. Solomon also hadn’t been one for human companionship in any way, shape, or form. He’d never felt a pressing need to alleviate what his siblings liked to call his ‘paradoxical lonlieness’. The thing was, Sol didn’t feel lonely.

He didn’t know what he was missing. He’d never been in a relationship and the sex that he’d had was always uncomfortable for him. It made him feel like he was only sleeping with those pretty girls because that’s what a successful millionaire was supposed to do. So gems stopped doing that when he was nineteen. Or twenty? He couldn’t remember. It had been a long while. Even then, Solomon had no platonic relationships either. What would be the need for something like that? People were ceaselessly disappointing for him. He was better than the people he met, and he found he never had a way to relate.

And so he’d isolated himself with his brother and sister. Yet, even they kept their distance from him. Good riddance, too, because both their voices sounded like fingernails on a chalkboard to him. The weight on his side got heavier and Sol continued to stare straight ahead with his cheek still using the brat’s head as a pillow. The man found it in him to chuckle, “Yes well, that’ll happen when you rocket towards the ground at excessive speeds.”

He clicked his tongue, again making a scolding sound at the idiocy of some people. Yet. The small way the brat honestly admitted that it hurt was enough to answer Solomon’s question. “Consider this your first debt to me,” he spoke quietly, not moving but still using his power to leech the feelings and consciousness from the man tucked into his side. He didn’t feel any of it, thank God, because he was bringing it into that emptiness Solomon knew so well.

He didn’t bother asking if that was better because Solomon usually did this to drop enemies discreetly and nonviolently. He did hope that the brat had a painless nice sleep. Because he might not be so peaceful when he woke up. And maybe... maybe Solomon was trying to get whatever he could out of this closeness. Maybe he was trying to imagine what it would be like to sit with somebody like this that didn’t hate his guts. The idea made him shiver.

That was a terrifying thought.

———

“And do make sure that when he wakes up, you are not actually pointing the gun at him. He’s going to be in an intense amount of pain. No need to frighten the brat,” Solomon explained to Iosif while watching the steady rise and fall of the stranger’s chest. He had been placed in the guest room of Solomon’s personal suite at the top of the Solstice. Iosif and Nika also had rooms in the hotel. Everybody that worked for Sol was either criminal or a past criminal.

Yet, even still, the Solstice became a beacon for both tourism and professional hospitality. Crooked Wall Street executives to families looking to spend a night in modern luxury were the typical customers. This entire building was possibly the only thing that Sol loved in life. He loved the project. What he’d done. He loved that it was one of the tallest hotels and building overlooking the skyline of their city.

“And what do I do when he does wake up? Stare at him? Talk about the weather?” Iosif scowled, “Why is he even here. You should have killed him.”

“Sure,” Sol shrugged, “Probably. But I didn’t! And now I get to play with him. See how that works? You’re too grumpy, Iosif. Lighten up and call me when he wakes. Or if he starts talking in his sleep... I bet that’s adorable.” He was still muttering things to himself when he left. Sol was a busy man who couldn’t be bothered to wait at the bedside of crippled morons who drooled on villains and expensive suits when they slept.

 

[CherryPetalTea]

Agnes hadn't really known what he'd be in for the first time he actually used his powers in a situation to help someone else. In a matter of minutes things had gone completely south. He'd misused his power in a completely risky situation and gotten himself more than a little injured without even stopping the matter. Not only that but he'd gotten someone killed. That's right. Someone was dead because of him. Someone who probably had a family, and friends, and maybe a decent future. He'd listened as that all had gotten taken away from someone just because he himself had failed.

Such things and thoughts didn't exist when his lights went out. Having his conscious taken away was just like dreaming although with lack of the actual dream part. It wasn't tiring or scary as for simply it was like he didn't exist. There was no pain. That's right, there was absolutely nothing. Before entering this ever so silent and vacant world he'd just barely caught the whisper of the words that had been spoken to him, but he hadn't exactly understood them. They'd seemed to hold some sort of insult, or maybe, he'd just read it wrong. It didn't really matter much anyways since they faded away just as quickly as the world around him.
----
Coming out of the dark world was like pushing up from the depths of the ocean. There was panic and struggle, confusion and desperation in order to just be able to breathe. But out of those things, it was the pain that stood out the most. He'd heard that drowning was painful at first but once acceptance came along it became as painless as breathing the smoothest air. In this moment he could only feel that such words were a lie. He was drowning, wasn't he? So why wasn't he hurting any less?

It only became clear to him that he wasn't drowning when the coughing started, the gasps, followed by the small rushes of air into his lungs. The air burned but it was far less painful than the "water" that had been there before. As he coughed his entire body shook, rattling him and coursing pain through nearly every inch of him. It was an awful, just absolutely terrible feeling. A drumming 'thump thump thump' pounded against his skill and followed along with his heartbeat, causing him to squeeze his eyes shut as if in hopes it would send the sound away. But the sound certainly wasn't the worst of it, comparing to nothing when it came to the agonizing throbbing that painted all across the front part of his body. Bloody hell. It hurt.

Once the coughing finally settled down and he was free to take a solid, raspy breath of air, Agnes opened his eyes. Just as before they were an absolutely brilliant soft green but they were lit with pain, not determination or fight they had before. The man was terrified because right then he couldn't remember why he was in pain, or where he was. With the slightest shift of his head he tried to start looking around then, trying to understand.

 

[atomic]

Sit, Iosif. Stay, Iosif. Shoot him, Iosif. Watch the kid, Iosif.

The same thing day in and day out under his insufferable brother. Iosif was a thin and tense man with a flop of curly brown hair at the top of his head. As per instructions, Iosif had it pushed back to look nice and professional. He looked a lot like his twin sister with his tanned skin and bushy brows. Opposite them, Solomon looked nothing like the rest of the Novakoski family.

Sol was paler and had darker hair. Not to mention his absolutely soulless eyes that had nearly had him tossed into holy fire by their overly religious mother. What human didn’t have an ounce of color or white in their eyes like that. Nobody. But you know what usually did depict pitch black eyes? Demons. Iosif was convinced his brother had been born more demon than human, though there was still no evidence that demons existed. Only Solomon.

He stared blankly at the man that was laying fast asleep in the bed. This was new. Solomon didn’t typically spare people that chose to use their powers against him. In fact, Solomon had really only spared two people that had tried what this young man had tried. Iosif was one of those idiots. His twin sister was the other one. Their little brother was truly somebody to be either feared or respected. He hadn’t quite decided. Probably feared. Maybe not even that.

Iosif had been standing in the corner of the room for a little while, tired of sitting and watching nothing. At some point, he’d pulled out his phone and started texting his girlfriend of the week. She was a cute thing. Really into the dark skin and hazel eyes thing. Being a Novakoski didn’t hurt either. Or a Nox? He didn’t know. Solomon was the one who’d insisted to turn his back on the family name. Bastard. Either way, Iosif had no problem flirting and bringing girls back to his room at the Solstice.

When he finally heard somebody start to stir, Iosif lifted his head and resisted the urge to raise the pistol. Iosif did have powers. But ever since they lost the fight, he made it quite clear that cost of losing was their powers. And if they were ever caught using them, it would assure a quick and painful death. The sad part? Iosif truly didn’t know whether Solomon would go through with that or not. He decided the man had lost the benefit of the doubt a long time ago. Around the same time he’d nearly lost his leg.

The order to not use his gun rang loud in his ear and Iosif cleared his throat. “Great. You’re awake.” That was all he said before he left the room without another word. He returned nearly ten minutes later with the man of the hour, himself. His little brother had some book in his hand which had undoubtedly been that ‘very important’ thing he’d been doing. Solomon passed over the book to Iosif who rolled his eyes. Fuck you too.

—

Solomon looked over the writhing form on the bed. He hadn’t been able to call a doctor to the Solstice yet, but he swore that was on his to-do list! For now, all he could do was move over to the man with a straight face. Solomon placed a pale soft hand (because when had he ever used his hands for manual labor?) flat against the brat’s forehead. He was clammy and sweaty, all the signs of a fever breaking out. Oh joy!

Sol sighed, wondering briefly if he was still interested or not. Eh, sure. Why not. “You’re going to want to calm down, отродье,” he purred, calling the boy a brat in the best way he knew how. “Iosif, can you phone Weasle for me? I’m sure our stunning new friend would rather be healed quicker than later. Who has time for casts, am I right?” He grinned at his little musings. Though he was unsure where the healer was these days. She owed a large amount of money to him. And since she was basically homeless and addicted to crystal meth, Solomon held her power ransom instead of killing her.

He even gave her a place to sleep!

Honestly, if she had half a brain, she would be using her powers to make money. Not that he’d give her the idea or make it seem like he’d be, like, totally cool with that. When people belonged to him, he took that responsibility very seriously. And here’s to hoping he was about to add to his collection. “First thing’s first. What is your name? Oh, wait. Allow me.” Solomon placed his hand back over the brat’s forehead again, grimacing at the grime. Ew. But this time, Solomon focused on pulling pain only away from him and into the void, “Is that better? I do hope so.”

 

[CherryPetalTea]

Agnes didn't know how long he'd been alone. If anyone had informed him of it having only been ten minutes he would have probably started laughing. Not any simple kind of laugh but the kind that made your lungs burn and had tears forming in your eyes. Why? Because the wait had simply not felt like ten minutes. No. It had felt like ten hours. Ten long agonizing hours. But pain had quickly turned into just one of his discomforts. Nothing had prepared him for the icy, unforgiving cold that suddenly plagued his body. He'd long given up on trying to glance around at the room he was in as it had only been seconds after the man had left that he'd closed his eyes tightly and just told himself to breathe. But even that couldn't stop the hurt.

If he'd had the energy to jump at the sudden touch against his forehead he very well would have. It brought a stutter to his lungs out of shock and nearly threw him into another glorious coughing fit. Sure, the coughing fit would have been embarrassing, but it certainly wasn't as embarrassing as the sound he'd made in his surprise. Curse involuntary reactions. Another troubled stutter happened as Agnes' chest shook with the effort of just trying to stay calm, but everything about his situation only screamed wrong. The smell of the room he was in, the physical pain, the cold, and it all just lead up to more and more panic.

A near strangled gasp almost left Agnes' lips as the touch against his forehead resurfaced. Having been so focused on the pain he hadn't noticed when the touch had left nor the conversation that had followed. Sure, he'd definitely caught some of what was said, but in his mind none of it was deemed important enough to think on at the time. The blond swore the touch was only there to bring him pain but it seemed that his surprises for the day definitely weren't over.

As the man's question filled his ears he slowly opened his eyes, blinking in confusion and another haze that just had to do more with shock than pain. Once his gaze finally landed on the man that had just "helped" him, it stopped there. Just as his eyelids fluttered closed for just a second, it all came rushing back to him. The bank, the robbery, the fight. Why he'd been hurting. A clearer, less pained gulp of air filled him as his eyes opened and he actually bothered to try and breathe again. Staring at the man with a whirlwind of confusion and some slight pain, Agnes couldn't get himself to speak. Not at first, no. He just opened his mouth pathetically before licking his lips, internally grimacing at the metallic taste his tongue was hit with.

He couldn't even begin to imagine his own appearance. While he couldn't see it, he somehow nearly looked worse before he'd shown up here. Those golden locks of his were a matted, dark red mess on one side, and the same would go for some areas of his clothes. Material had been torn and so had skin, and specifically having to do with skin, there was still sweat that was continuing to come on. Lack of pain didn't take away a fever.

The blond didn't know what to say. What should someone say when the man they tried to hurt was now doing something "positive" for them? "I-" At first he began to speak who knows what as it was some attempt to either lash out or complain about his pain but somehow it just ended up, "Agnes." He didn't know why he'd just managed to say two words, one being his name. But he had, and he couldn't just take saying his name back, like how his body just couldn't fight off the cold.

 

[atomic]

Solomon glances around the room for a chair and nodded towards the one in the corner. Iosif brought the chair over as obediently as ever, and when he set it down next to the stranger’s head, Solomon dismissed him. “That’ll do, pig. That’ll do.” He smiled briefly, relishing in his brother’s annoyance as he moved out of the bedroom to leave Sol behind with the wounded man. And just like that, it was quiet.

Sol let a deep breath escape his lips. There was nothing to it, but he began to push hair out of the brat’s face. He wanted a better look. Solomon always wanted a better look at the things that interested him. To be honest, the brat wasn’t interesting him too much as it was. He was mostly just laying there and whimpering. Or freaking out at the touch to his forehead. Solomon thought of telling him he would be okay, but he wasn’t sure if that was the case or not.

So he simply hummed and waited for him to calm himself down. They always did, eventually. Typically, they just wore themselves out. Like dogs pulling and yipping at a leash until they lay panting and submissive. He didn’t really need this guy to be very submissive, though. Sol could only wonder what he would be like when he grasped the situation fully. He hoped that fight hadn’t left him or he would feel a bit like a fool.

The whole reason he’d saved this man was because of that fighting edge. Though, Solomon didn’t think he would hold it against him at this exact moment. Even he understood human limitations and was reasonable about it. So naturally, when the brat gave him his name with zero fight, Solomon rolled it over his tongue quietly. “You look like a girl. And you share a name with one. What an unfortunate human you turned out to be.”

Solomon began to pluck individual hairs sticking to the boy’s sweaty cheek and moved them away. That fever was bad. And those cuts should probably be cleaned. Damn, he should have had Iosif do it, but the man was probably busy tracking down their healer. Oh well, he didn’t actually mind helping Agnes. It gave him something to do. Something new, too. He didn’t normally do this.

“Well, wait here, Agnes. I will be right back.” He stood and straightened out his suit. Then he was stepping through his void to his suite’s kitchen. Sol grabbed a few bottles of water his hotel had plenty of. And then he also stepped into his bathroom to get a few first aid supplies. When he said he’d be right back, Sol hadn’t been lying and he was back within a few minutes. “Open your mouth.”

He touched Agnes’ chin a little too softly than would be expected. Though, lots of things Solomon did was actually gentle and soft. It was just his personality to not be abrasive or rough around the edges. Eloquent. That was the word. Meticulous. There was another one. He coaxed Agnes’ mouth open along the chin, tipping some water down the man’s throat to hopefully make speaking and thinking a little easier.

This water was also being added to the debt Agnes was slowly procuring from Solomon’s good will. So had that second dosage of his power to take the brat’s pain away. “I’m going to remove your shirt. Don’t worry about your privacy, I assure you I find your current state largely repulsive at the moment.” Without asking, Solomon lifted Agnes uncerimonious off the mattress and pulled his shirt up and off of his torso (he’d momentarily uncuffed him).

Solomon grimaced at the state of Agnes’ body. He was cut. His rib cage was looking... crooked? Sol touched his fingertip to the skin where one bone was pushing against the skin. “Oh Agnes, what have you done to yourself?” Another sigh. He began to quietly work on cleaning and disinfecting the open wounds that he could find. “I’m leaving your legs alone for when my healer gets here. You were incredibly lucky you didn’t kill yourself. Didn’t anybody teach you what can happen if you misuse your powers?”

 

[CherryPetalTea]

Agnes had rather quickly been hit with shame with just how easily he'd announced his own name. In this situation giving out his own name seemed just as vital as if he'd just given out his own card number. If only it were possible to take one's words back. His lips parted once more in preparation for an attempted snarky remark to recover from his moments of weakness but it didn't come through. The revisiting touch against his forehead left him once again in surprise, as well as shut him up for a few moments. Long enough moments that allowed the man to continue speaking.

Such was probably for the better. After all, he was beginning to become more and more aware of his situation. Agnes was well aware that trying to physically move and fight in his position was everything foolish. No, his fire was not dead, it was certainly still there, it just wasn't ready to be sparked up as if the flame were aware that it could rather easily be blown out just like that. So he just allowed his chest to tighten and eyes to shut for a few moments as his hair was brushed aside. A part of him had expected the touch to feel like venom, but it didn't, and despite himself, he let out a soft breath that could almost be compared to an action of relaxation.

Tensing up even more would just lead to more pain as that is what tension just lead to. It would be better to just breathe, figure out his situation, and then go from there. That much he logically understand, but it certainly didn't mean that he'd hold back on running his mouth once in a while. Just maybe he'd hold off until he was better, well, if he got better. This man could certainly just be planning to kill him but oddly enough, right now, he had his doubts.

It only took seconds for Agnes to immediately choke on his thoughts. Okay, so maybe he wouldn't wait before opening his mouth and hissing out whatever words he could. Agnes could only glare then as the man was back at it again with comparing him to his rather feminine name, and hair. Although the glare was faulted as his gaze burned with clear signs of his fever rather than the actual glare he'd been fighting to summon.

Stupid fever. No, the moment he could actually think for himself, he was not going to be held to being compared to his name. Though, as long as the man didn't start calling him by the awful nicknames his friend's gave him, then he'd survive. Well, he supposed, if he survived his fever and injuries first.

'Wait?' Wait his ass. There wasn't much Agnes could do anyways. Not when he was practically trapped to his bed by one wrist and the fact his body was just beat to hell. Not that he'd admit it but he slightly missed the touch against his forehead, as it had been the only form of real comfort he'd gotten since he'd woken up. Even if it was by the man he was beginning to hate with a venomous passion, in that moment it hadn't really matter because it had been okay.

Such with the feeling still following, there wasn't any fight when the man came back. Because as to when he'd seen water it was only then he'd really just how thirsty he actually was, and he didn't want to screw over his chances of getting water. Agnes' lips parted rather easily and the flood of cold that followed led him to keep them open until the water had begun to be pulled away from him. The cool liquid had been his savior, as it kissed his dry and bloodied mouth, and as it washed those things away. He'd almost asked for more once the water had been taken from him, but through the last bits of his pride, he didn't say a thing.

Oh, how he so desperately wanted to protest at having his shirt removed but the prickling pain from being moved made him keep his mouth shut. His lips curled slightly at the comment made about his own . . . lack of attractiveness, ready for a steady reply, but he waited. He could only blame his lack of responses on the fever. But even the fever didn't stop the almost growled out hiss that escaped through his teeth at the touches against his chest. It bloody hurt, and it'd only taken one glance at himself before he'd shut his eyes, unable to take just how not-normal his ribs looked.

"If only you'd taken the misused damage." Agnes somehow managed to spit out, his earlier thoughts about keeping quiet already out the window. No one had ever known about his abilities except for himself, so of course, he was very aware of what happened if he did things wrong, but he didn't know how else to learn.

 

[atomic]

Solomon focused on the little surface wounds, his eyes never straying from their task. Sol never did really find himself admiring people. It was like any comment he would make of an appearance was completely objective. Agnes was cute. And by societal standards, he probably had a nice body that girls would love to cuddle with. Or tease. He actually, wasn’t sure. He was skinny but not as skinny as Solomon, who could pass as skeleton in some instances.

The man’s hair was an absolute mess, and that was legitimately making Sol cringe. He had something against messy untamed hair. His sister got a pass because her hair was long and beautiful, something that wouldn’t reflect poorly on his image. Though, Iosif looked like a poodle when he didn’t style his hair back. And Solomon? Well, Solomon always styled his hair back so it didn’t matter what he looked like when he didn’t style it.

Sol was gentle and thorough with Agnes’ torso. His fingertips barely applied pressure as he worked along the man’s body to clean blood and dirt from in and around the man’s wounds. Every now and again, he would look up from his work and study the expressions that moved over Agnes’ face with mild curiosity. There was a lot of pain in those eyes. And behind the pain was a mix of emotions that Solomon couldn’t quite read. He had a problem empathizing and since he could not empathize, he also found determining people’s expressions difficult.

So he had to rely more on logic to understand. All of this probably made Agnes angry. Humiliated. Scared. Restless. Impatient. Solomon didn’t do anything to intentionally make it worse, but he also wasn’t trying to make anything better, either. Only Agnes’ physical state was of importance to Solomon at this very moment. But he decided to humor that comment the man was able to spit out. Touchy touchy.

“Yes, if only,” he pointed out, “Next time, I’d go for subtlety. Especially against me. I’m not so good at reading people, but even I couldn’t miss what was happening, what would happen, and what I had to do in the seconds before it happened.” He turned Agnes’ arm around so that his palm was open and facing up. There were cuts on his hands from where he fell. Solomon smoothed the disinfectant wipes over them after washing away the blood with water from the bottles.

Sol looked back up. “Rate your pain on a scale from 1 to 10. Ten is asking me to put you out of your misery so don’t be a little bitch.” Solomon smiled. But even if he was telling a joke, he still kind of wasn’t telling a joke. The man didn’t really know how to make good jokes. So they all ended up being more or less a little creepy and concerning. So, to ease the blow because, at least, he was self aware of this, Sol actually did chuckle, the noise almost sounding human for once, “I’m only joking. I want you to feel some pain so you don’t hurt yourself further, but it would be more productive if you could speak more than seven stupid words at a time. Then maybe you can tell me what that power was. I thought telekinesis at first, but that jump spoiled my first hypothesis. I have since narrowed it down to magnetism, propulsion, and gravity manipulation.”

 

[CherryPetalTea]

Agnes had never once truly thought of himself as "definitely attractive." He understood that he seemed to have a more feminine figure from everything from his feet to his face. Though just because he was deemed more "feminine" he certainly wouldn't consider himself more attractive because of it. So, in his own mind, he just categorized himself as average and he believed it to be a fair assessment. Average didn't mean bad nor did it mean great. Okay, so maybe he understood that compared to some "average" people he could be deemed a bit more attractive, but he'd never have the confidence to keep hold of that statement.

The young man's gaze revealed itself every once in a while to just glare up at the ceiling as he just couldn't bare to take a glance at himself. Looking at himself would mean seeing the unusual shape of his ribs and the berry coloured blooms that were spreading across his chest. Not only that he'd have to face seeing the man who was patching up his wounds with an oddly gentle amount of care. Soft touches to his chest had felt like soft sparks due to his fever but having his hand grabbed was a whole different matter. He'd found that the sudden change had sent a numb feeling through his hand, maybe due to the over contrasting temperatures that existed with his fever.

". . . Telekinesis? Really?" Despite not being fond of the man at the moment he couldn't help the amusement that slipped into his tone. Telekinesis. If only it were something that simple. No, Agnes hadn't missed the three other listed abilities that were listed, but the fact that telekinesis had been the first original assumption was just too funny for him to handle. Agnes couldn't help but think that having telekinesis for his ability would have made his life so much easier. Mainly due to the fact that it wasn't something uncommon, and then there was the fact that besides the average headache, the ability would most likely be painless. Something his own true ability was everything but.

Bubbles of laughter began to form in his chest, and soon Agnes' body was shaking out of not only just pain, but from a fit of giggling. Though rather quickly in turned into something deep and radiant, like the embodiment of sunshine. "Ha- ow." Choking on his own laughter out of pain he tried to stop, but the situation was so ridiculous. "Glad you got that idea out of your head." He'd paused enough then to be able to speak, but soon he was in another fit of miserable laughter.

 

[atomic]

Despite being skin and bones, Solomon had definitely had moments to decide that he, as objectively as he could decide this, was attractive. If he wasn’t attractive, he wouldn’t have a single way to explain why so many strangers asked him to get drinks. Or asked if he was seeing anybody. He was fairly certain that their opinions would change the second he took off his sunglasses. That small detail in Solomon’s physical appearance made him somewhat of an abomination.

It was fine, because again, Solomon didn’t seek companionship. He hadn’t for a long time. It would be a waste of time and effort to humor anybody for a drink or a night out. Solomon preferred his solitary nights in his office, combing through taxes and bills that he was going to pay simply to keep government hounds off his ass. But then, of course, he had to be careful not to mix legal money in with illegal money. Like the millions he got from the many businesses that he was laundering money from.

It was busy work. Careful work. And he was so young! Imagine how wealthy he would be by the time he was an ugly old man. Solomon couldn’t bear to hope he would live that long. That sounded awful. He hardly liked it as he was, right now. Attractive but comfortably alone.

Solomon lifted a quizzical brow at the little reaction from him touching Agnes’ hand. “I apologize. My blood runs colder than most.” Literally. But it didn’t matter if somebody would like to take that as the metaphor it could be, as well. But as soon as he apologized, he went right back to touching, cleaning, and bandaging. Solomon probably could have been a Doctor. Or not. You had to have decent people skills to be a doctor. You had to have decent people skills for a lot of the things Solomon could have done with his life.

Agnes sounded amused which brought back Solomon's curious stare. Of all the emotions and responses he had imagined from this man, amused had not been one of them. Delightful! He was still a little bucket of surprises. That made Sol nod in curt approval before turning back to his work. But... amusement was one thing. Laughter was another. Damn, now he couldn’t even focus! What did Agnes possibly have to laugh abo— Oh. Him.

Solomon frowned.

“Telekinesis was a perfectly logical assumption at the time,” he snapped, though he only ended up sounding like the petulant child he could be when somebody laughed at him being wrong about something. Sol was rarely ever wrong about anything, so really, Agnes should hold his tongue and not make this a habit. The man felt the intense compulsion to justify and explain himself, “You lifted pieces of the floor off the ground. That’s the first thing any telekinetic moron does to try an intimidate somebody with a much cooler power.”

Did Sol just call his power cool? Yes, yes he did.

“And no matter if you’re telekinetic or not, you still did something incredibly lame. And then stupid.” And got somebody killed for it. But Solomon had all but forgotten about that, by now.

 

[CherryPetalTea]

Agnes was finally able to cool the flutters in his chest due to the protest from his ribs. Taking a few moments to just breathe he fully turned his gaze on the other. "No- I mean. It was logical." A very light and weak chuckle left him then. Ah. The pain and fever were not a good mix to his sanity. "It's just I wish that something as simple as telekinesis would have been the correct assumption." Pain flashed in his weak smile before he let out a wary sigh. He certainly hadn't missed the insult nor the comment of his own ability being cool.

"I mean you're right." Even though he wanted to disagree, he didn't as he knew he'd just have more insults (or truths) lashed out at him. "But I didn't know what else to do." It was almost too honest of a confession but there wasn't any real reason to hide such information. "It was my first time trying to use it for a fight." Agnes didn't really know why he was continuing to just ramble away, but being honest, it just felt good to actually be able to talk about his ability for once. After all, he'd never talked to someone about it before, but here he was.

Head turning to the side he glanced off somewhere past the one near him. "Then again, guess it wasn't even much of a fight." His words trailed off slowly, not knowing where to go with the conversation. Agnes had been avoiding saying what his ability was directly because while he had a name for it himself, even he didn't really know what the real title of his ability was. He just knew some of the things he could do, or, well, somewhat do.

Closing his eyes for just a few moments he listened to his own rattled breaths. The sound of his own breathing was unsettling as there was a sound to it that just shouldn't be there. Most likely having to do with the completely unnatural direction of his ribs. The bruising did absolutely nothing to show the reality of his discomfort.

Now, what would the man do to him? Would he just kill him? Taunt him? Raise him up again just to beat him back into the dirt? Maybe just wipe him from the world completely. He just knew one thing. While he may be compliant now all because his head was pounding and his body felt like ice and pins, he wasn't always just going to have himself laid down like this.

 

[atomic]

Solomon didn’t do much to react to Agnes’ explaination on why he was laughing in the first place. People were strange. He was satisfied that Agnes wasn’t laughing at him, but the reason he would laugh was only more troubling. Nn. If only Anika were in here. She understood people much more than Sol did. She also understood powers much better, but since she wasn’t allowed to use hers, he didn’t bother calling her up.

Both Iosif and Anika would have been much more valuable if Sol would simply give in, a little. But that was supposedly the cost of challenging him. The same didn’t apply to Agnes since as he so shamefully admitted, it was his first time using them in a fight? Dear lord, Solomon had not been expecting that. He thought that perhaps this man was just bad at controlling his power. But this... “Your first fight. And you decided to take me on? You are... very confusing, Agnes.”

Sol let out a little breath when he’d done all that he could do to clean and bandage the man’s wounds. He finally sat back to admire his work. After a moment, he figured the other could use a bit more water so he took his chin again and muttered for him to open up. He then tipped the water into his mouth, careful not to give him too much. “You should have just let me do what I do. It’s what the rest of this city has learned to do. Bad things happen to people who cross me.”

As if Agnes clearly didn’t know this. But Solomon was stating it like it was something rather regrettable. He’d lost his opinion about the lack of challenge. If he tried hard enough, he could only just remember the elation he’d felt as a young twenty-two year old when he’d realized that he’d become the most powerful person in this city. That elation soon turned into anger. Disappointment. Now there was either crippling boredom or nothing. He preferred the nothing.

“You just need to be trained. Taught control. You start honing in that the energy from your power focusing on a single point in space. Though.. I would be able to refine your training if I knew what it was exactly you can do.” Solomon clicked his tongue to get Agnes’ attention on him. And then he opened his palm as if holding a sphere. From nothing, nothing began to materialize. The tiny little rip began to fold on itself and spin. The rip got larger but Solomon focused on keeping it the size of his palm, focused on controlling the energy and moving it. A condensed ball of potent void the size of a baseball hovered just above his skin.

“If I were to release this, let it spring open, the rift would be large enough to swallow this hotel,” Solomon bragged, though he wasn’t really intentionally bragging. That’s just the sort of arrogant air he gave off. Though he was trying t demonstrate absolute control. “I wouldn’t want that, though.” The bed was starting to shift on the floor. A few picture frames groaned as the shook and threatened to fly off the wall towards Solomon’s hand. “I use this to impress idiots and be excessive. To use something like this in combat would be pointless.”

Sol let it unwind. Close. The room stopped shaking. Solomon panted. His brow sweat. It was clear that stung had exhausted him. “I would run myself into the ground in no time. When did you first discover you had powers?”