eighteen [action]

[imatreenow]

[Friday afternoon finds Mithos dragging a granite statue through the streets of Luceti. It will look familiar to those who can claim Aselia as their home world, carved adoringly in the likeness of a young man wielding dual swords. The figure is planted atop a base that bears a plaque engraved with the simple honor, "The Hero Lloyd Irving." All together, it stands at about three and a half feet, scaled down from the original model.

For Mithos, it's a bitter reminder of things that could never have been. Its sudden appearance in his house had been an elbow nudging him sharply in the ribs, an obnoxious stage whisper prompting, "Hey, remember that time all your hopes and dreams were crushed?"

Yes, yes he remembers.

Which is why he had to get rid of it. The first day, he dragged the statue behind the house, let it topple into the river, and watched the determined stony face sink below the surface. The next morning, it found its way back to his living room. Each day, he drags it farther away, and each morning it proudly comes back.

His route today takes him up from the south end of the village through the north end and into the woods. The farther away, the better.]

Comments

[sketchingideals]

["Human"... no, he's not. Not since the moment his powers awakened, brought forth by his connection to someone who never should have died in the first place. But...]

Yes... I am weak and pathetic. [He can at least comment on that. If he weren't, he wouldn't have needed to be shoved out of the way back then. No one would have been hurt on his account.]

[imatreenow]

You can't do anything. [Jeb is as powerless as he is, isn't he? He can't help him. Nobody here can help him. He's wedged right where he is, and nothing can pry him out.] So stop trying to fool yourself into thinking you can. [Stop trying to fool him into thinking that maybe, just maybe...]

[sketchingideals]

...I was able to help you. D-During that draft, I was able to help you. [It's all he can think of to say in response.] Maybe I am weak now, but maybe I also won't be weak forever. I was able to do that one thing back then. Maybe I'll learn to be able to do more.

[imatreenow]

[He only has the same old arguments, wearing thin and, sapped of energy, growing brittle. He can't push Jeb's logic - not cold, but enticingly warm - away anymore.

But he's afraid to stop trying.] Stop it. [He takes a threatening step closer.] Just stop it.

[sketchingideals]

[Jeb stops talking, but he doesn't take a step back in respond to Mithos' stepping forward. He only watches him.]

[imatreenow]

[He pauses in his advance when Jeb doesn't back away. His glare is frantic, and his arsenal of words are all blanks. He wants Jeb to disappear, or he wants himself to disappear - he doesn't know which would be better.]

[sketchingideals]

[Jeb just keeps watching him, still not backing down. He knows Mithos could hurt him--he's done it before. He's threatened to kill him. Even so...]

[imatreenow]

[Sharp words don't work. Threats don't work. He doesn't know how to push Jeb away. He doesn't know what to do he can't do this he just can't--

So he just glares, and then he turns to leave, as though Jeb is not worth his time. He's not. It's not worth it. All roads end in more hurt. He grabs the statue again, and begins to pull, with no intention of stopping.]

[sketchingideals]

[He doesn't leave, but he doesn't follow Mithos either. He just bows his head, speaking very quietly.]

Be safe, Mithos.