Amidst the rubble of a war not long past, the stars seek to raise a new generation. Blessed with celestial powers that have begun to make their reappearance, the Gifted are individuals whose shoulders the future of the city rests on. Will you overthrow the dysfunctional government or work to keep it in power? Or will you undermine the whole game and play to your own advantage? No matter your motives, Hyperion is yours to shape.
The Saturday night life was in full swing. Blurs of multi-colored light smeared the gauzy black film that had settled over the city as echoing screams and high-pitched laughter tore through the air, pitching high over some Top 40s pop hit that was currently playing from crackling steroes. The boardwalk was alive with revelry, and Altair moved amongst the throngs of people like a blackfish slicing through water. His height gave him the advantage, and it was an advantage he readily took, knifing through the tightest of knots as he flitted between the various food stalls that had been set up.
He came to a stop at a confectioner’s stand, the corner of his mouth tweaking up in a half-smile. He traded a handful of bills for a cone swaddled in cotton candy, saying “Keep the change,” in that lackadaisical way only the well-off could afford. Beneath his feet, the planks of wood thrummed with energy, and he swayed momentarily when several teenagers brushed past him, shrieking in delight.
Slowly, ambling as if he had no true goal, he made his way closer to the entrance of Cosmo World, the neon lights blinking cheerfully at him, further drawing him out of reality and into a wonderland shared only to those who could cast away their troubles and thoughts – he smiled up at the sign, imagining himself as Alice and tore a tuft free of his candy. The spun sugar melted on his tongue, leaving behind only a swathe of pebbled remains that he willingly swallowed.
The truth of the matter was that he was bored, and he had no interest in nightclubs. It was too easy to bring someone home that way, laden with liquor, steeped in secrets – the game was too simple, and he was not one to be satisfied with simple for long. So tonight found him seeking a different sort of challenge, and this magical, mysterious night that hung over him offered the perfect backdrop. He would have to weave his wits in amongst the wondrous sights and pastel-seeping sounds.
The whole night was too alive, too vibrant, for trickery to work – it was as if a spotlight had been cast upon each person, their nerves alive with the energy that crackled in the air, their senses alert for the latest adrenaline rush. He was out of his element here, bordering on a bit too old to visit this sort of place by himself – but that was all right. Altair’s eyes crinkled as he scanned the people, still idly popping pieces of cotton candy into his mouth.
Post by Jett Sullivan on Jul 15, 2017 17:25:01 GMT
" s o y u n p e r d e d o r , "
i'm a loser baby, so why don't you kill me?
Jett whipped the baseball at the empty milk bottles, filled with incredulity seconds later. For once in his life, he'd actually been able to convince the bottles to topple. He threw his fist in the air with a hoot and a holler, snatching up his rightfully won teddy bear and setting off further down the boardwalk. He was initially supposed to meet his buddies here for a night out, but as per usual, they'd bailed. While this was irritating, the raven-haired man wasn't about to let it kill his vibe, which was clearly something along the lines of 'just here to have fun' and 'fight me'. His sandals made no sound as he proceeded down the boardwalk, his open black button up exposing the center portion of his well-muscled (and plenty tanned) torso. His dark hair was freshly cleaned and he smelled faintly of the sea and coconuts, mostly thanks to his shampoo.
As he strode down the boardwalk, his dark eyes noticed a child who was sitting in a stroller near two defeated looking parents. Naturally, the man assumed the two hadn't been as successful as he had in their ventures to win a toy. "Girl couldn't make it, so I've got nobody to give this to. You mind?" The boy's mother smiled and offered permission, so the bear was soon in the little boy's arms. Jett took care to ruffle his hair before he walked on, smile shining like the invisible stars in the sky. He'd been offered a variety of similar things as a boy, and it just felt right to return the favor. In all reality, he hadn't even had a girl. He just needed an excuse to play it off.
Weaving through the crowd wasn't hard for someone who worked on the docks in the ever-bustling District 6, and Jett was hardly too sheepish to assert his dominance and thread through groups of others, so travel was made to look easy. He smiled at any who noticed him casually brushing against them as he continued on his trek to the food stalls, hoping for a corn dog. He had no doubt that he'd end up with some deep fried wiener on a stick before long, and he'd probably be ravenous by the time he had it in his hands.
Sure enough, this was truth. By the time he'd managed to get his corn dog, night had settled over Cosmo World like a blanket, causing the lights to seem brighter and the mood to change. Soon parents would be taking their young children home and putting them to bed, allowing space for all the older children to play. Jett included himself in the 'big kid' category, though he wished his friends weren't always such chumps. It would have been better if he had someone to horse around with, or even someone to take on the ferris wheel. Of course, his options weren't limited, so as he made his way away from the food stands, he looked around for any potential companions for the evening. The man wasn't shy and took little issue with approaching others, provided they seemed interesting from the get go. As he scanned the faces floating about him, he tried to pick out the lonely, all the while starting to nibble at the corn dog he'd purchased.
Altair grinned, his white teeth flashing fluorescent beneath the artificial lights. His golden eyes seemed to almost glow in the darkness of his face as he spied a potential target. The man had caught his attention almost immediately, ambling along with the self-assured nonchalance only afforded to the truly confident. There was not a hint of hesitation in his steps, and Altair’s eyes roved his body with the frank interest his spot afforded, still popping pieces of cotton candy into his mouth.
He enjoyed men and women in equal measure, but the truth of the matter was that he almost always took a more dominant role – it wasn’t so much by his choice as it was a result of his personality; he was not one to draw close, and taking the lead afforded him an extra layer of protection. So it was that the other’s appearance drew his interest in the challenge it potentially offered him. Being a psychologist, he could typically pick out a person’s bedroom tendencies in the way they walked, talked, acted – and while there were some who deviated, there was almost always a tell that they would transform in more intimate settings.
And if the man Altair had fixated on proved to be one of those who swapped roles in the bedroom? Well, there was always his original goal of simply alleviating boredom – a friend to enjoy the roller coasters with.
His grin slipped, smoothed down into a pleasant smile, and he began to make his way through the crowd, approaching the other man with a lazy wave.
“Yo,” he said, once he was close enough to be heard, leaning back on the heels of his feet in a relaxed stance, seemingly unmindful of the people that circled their island of two. “You here with friends? It’s surprising to see a guy like you alone.”
He tore another tuft free of his rapidly-diminishing cotton candy, pushing it between his lips in one fluid action. Altair flashed the other man another smile, more secretive than the first, and turned to survey the throng that surrounded them, as if searching for the man’s companions. While he had watched the man for a while to ascertain he was alone, there was always a chance that he was simply waiting.
A group would provide more of a challenge, but it was one Altair was certain he could overcome. Either he could assimilate himself into their midst, or he’d simply pick out the one most open to his overtures.
“Then again, it’s probably surprising to see a guy like me alone,” and his lips curled, a touch sardonic. He put another piece of cotton candy onto his tongue.
Post by Jett Sullivan on Jul 16, 2017 21:24:34 GMT
" s o y u n p e r d e d o r , "
i'm a loser baby, so why don't you kill me?
Jett's eye was snagged by a lazily waving hand, one that he hoped belonged to someone he knew, a friend who had come to surprise him. Instead, he was looking up at a face he'd never seen before, one that had some magnificently piercing eyes. The younger man offered up a friendly wave that was perhaps a bit more enthusiastic, one that complemented the easy grin that manifested shortly afterward. "Hey," he responded cheerfully, hoping his greeting would successfully demonstrate the fact that he was currently welcoming company. He listened to the man speak with a devious twinkle in his eye, taking a brief break from his hot dog on a stick.
"A guy like me?" Jett drawled, quirking a dark brow. He chuckled at the underlying assumptions of the statement and proceeded to shrug it off. He knew damn well he was a catch; the look in this dude's eyes was hardly tame. Why he'd chosen Cosmo World of all places as his venue to catch a big one was beyond the freckled man's comprehension, but he wasn't about to judge or question it. Maybe he'd been stood up by his asshole buddies, too, and denied a night on the town. Jett's suspicions were somewhat confirmed when the man made his comment about how it may have been surprising that he was here alone, and truth be told, it kind of was. Luckily enough, Jett was in the same damn boat.
"I think it might be a little harder to surprise me than it is you," Jett offered, feeling a little ballsy, a smug smile perched upon his face. "There are definitely stranger things to encounter here than the tall, dark, and handsome." This statement was plain, factual, as if Jett was reciting a principle of mathematics. His general demeanor showed him to be rather unaffected by the attention, more preoccupied with his grumbling stomach and treat that sat in his hand. He'd probably liven up a little after he cleaned the wooden stick from its scrumptious bearings, but that had yet to happen.
"You just come here for a sweet treat?" The question was clearly phrased and inflected as a mischevious double entendre, but Jett wouldn't have been bothered if it hadn't been picked up on. He was just trying to get a feel for the situation, after all. "I definitely didn't just come here for this wiener," he said halfway through another bite of the deep fried corn bread. "This was initially supposed to be a weekly get together between my fellas and me, but they all bailed last minute with some lame ass excuses." Truthfully, he was a little miffed, but he'd get over it soon enough, especially if this guy was any fun. Strangers never tended to be strangers for long.
Jett turned his dark eyes to the man, who seemed to be a little taller than himself, though he was also in fair physical shape. He offered him a half-smile that could only be described as charming and cocked his head to the side. "I'm Jett," he offered, extending his hand, "Jett Sullivan."
Altair Cruz • lmao so excited~ also sorry for the lame ass wiener joke aha
The man was immediately welcoming toward Altair, and he took that friendliness as permission to sidle closer. He was not overly fast in his movements, rather it was like a simple sway, the steady push of a wave drawing close to the shore – insistent but unhurried, certain it would reach its destination. And this stranger certainly fit the analogy. There was a brightness to him that burned like a bonfire in the dark of night, an energy that made Altair think of surf and sun – a sharp contrast to his own smoke and shadows, sweetened momentarily by the treat he wielded.
It was the scent of him, Altair decided, sea salt and coconuts – and damn, if he wasn’t tempted to see if the man’s taste matched, if his skin would slicken with sweat and his voice would swathe the air with swears.
Careful. Altair blinked, forcing away the predatory bloodlust that rose in his abdomen, balling in the space beneath his coiled muscles. He licked at his lips, tasting the faintest remnants of spun sugar, pursing his mouth at the taste before it smoothed out into a grin, his head tilting to the side; artificial light spilled over his hair, reflecting blue-black.
“Is that so,” he murmured, his eyes threatening to lid, his voice bordering on breathless. “I shall endeavor to properly shock you, then.” He finished with a devil’s smirk, but as quick as it showed, it just as quickly slipped away, a fleeting look that danced between illusion and reality. Here was the hunter, deceptively calculating, but Altair was not one to show the mechanisms that went on in his head, and as quick as the devious look had appeared, it had even more quickly been replaced with a genial smile – a gentleman’s soft look that spoke of courtship that was fetchingly coquettish.
“Tall, dark, and handsome could apply to either of us, though. As for why I came…” Altair trailed off, looking thoughtful. He was seemingly unconcerned with how the man attacked his snack, at most looking faintly amused in how forthright he was in his hunger. At last he shrugged, another careless smile crossing his lips. “Who knows. All the other options seemed dreadfully boring.”
Compared to his companion, Altair went straight for the throat. It wasn’t that he was ignorant toward the thinly-veiled euphemisms, it was simply that he danced a different style. Not that he was so forward as to come straight out and say his thoughts, but he was far more willing to lay out his thoughts – assuming they fit the narrative he was trying to craft.
“Jett,” he repeated, tasting the man’s name. The man’s grip was firm, his hand rough and calloused – a sharp contrast to Altair’s own smooth palm, his long fingers that briefly skittered against Jett’s skins as the handshake was completed. He dipped his head in an informal bow, answering smoothly, “Altair Cruz, at your service. Tell me, Jett, are you boring? I'm interested in taking advantage of that couple's discount they have.”
While some may have been intimidated by the man standing next to him, his presence didn't much phase Jett. He hung around with great brutes on the daily, though they were far less mysterious and easier to read. Naturally, the only thing Jett could think to do was take another bite of his corn dog, chewing slowly and savoring the flavor. He was in little hurry to see what the night had in store, similarly to the moon. He'd rather take his sweet ass time and watch every twist and turn with the eye of an owl, though he was hardly as wise.
A gut feeling told Jett he ought to bail before he found himself biting off more than he could chew, but he ignored that feeling on sight; he was always making poor decisions, sometimes to his own dismay, but mostly to others. He was still young, and he'd be forever reckless. The man's voiced washed over him with a sinister sort of gentleness, causing some of the hair on his neck to rise and a sly smile to accompany. "You sure use some flowery language," he said plainly, looking up to meet the man's eyes. He was perhaps hoping to instill the belief that he was ignorant, a shield he loved to hide behind. It was amazing what people would do when they thought one was incapable of comprehension.
Removing the last bit of his corn dog from its stick, Jett looked back to the people milling about before him. "Dreadfully boring," he mused, mid-chew. Swallowing, he continued, "maybe it's just that attitude." A fat grin manifested now, causing Jett to look back up at the fellow's face. "Anything'll be shitty if you think it ought to be." His dark eyes read 'try me', his body relaxed. This was an argument he'd been having since he was fifteen and trying to get through cleaning gull shit off the docks for some spare change. His sunny disposition was what provided the fire in his belly and kept him going, and that was something that would never change.
While this guy may have been scheming, Jett's mind was allowed to drift. He placed his hands on his hips, brushing the open fabric from his shirt back so that his palms rested on his well-defined hips. He was the antithesis of boring, as well as polite. "Boring?" There was an unspoken dare behind the words, stemming from the desire for dominance. There was also the air of an insolent child behind the intonation, and the man promptly tsked and shook his head, freeing a tropical breeze. He offered a short laugh, turning so that he was angled more toward Altair, a mischevious twinkle returning to his dark eyes. He brought his arms up to his chest now, the image of obstinance. "I ain't the type to sit in the crowd and watch the performers," he spoke slowly, hand-picking each word, "I am the performer." This wasn't even a lie, really. He had been tempted to join Cosmo World's crew and swallow fire, but he didn't want to make measly wages and hit up the gym just to maintain his figure.
"The only thing you should be worried about is whether or not you could handle me for a while," there was something unmistakably sultry about his words, though they were perhaps spoken in too truculent a manner to have lived up to their potential, "because I'm definitely a trip." Jett was high energy, filled to the brim with piss and vinegar. More often than not, his friends were just too ready to relax to spend time with him. All he did was go, go, go - like the Energizer bunny.
“Flowery is a pretty word for it,” Altair answered. Though he was forward, he was also slow. A sauntering, swelling sort of caution was his approach for things – he was not one to hide, had learned as a child that hiding only made the resulting punishment worse – but his careful response had equally been shaped by his childhood. It was too easy to fall back into the old habits, looking for landmines hidden beneath casual words, trying to ease out the tightening muscles, massaging them loose with honeyed words. He blinked. Smiled again, though it was a lopsided, self-deprecating creation.
He was not scared of this man, was not scared of people in general. He had tested the limits of his power, had pushed himself as close to the deep end as he had dared. But his ability could not block the pain that came before he reversed himself – and it was the wounds that lasted the longest. They clung to his skin, ghostly blows that occasionally woke him during the quietest nights – when he had forgotten to slip into an alcohol-aided slumber, when his hearing caught the faintest click of a door opening.
Imaginings, he knew. Specters of a time before. But still they haunted him.
Perhaps that was why he was so insistent on never sleeping alone – a provisional sacrifice offered up to his dark demons. So, yes, his speech was embellished, his lips dripping flattery, but he could no more strip away his ornamentation anymore than this man could so easily hide his roguish cant.
And so, he was willing to withdraw momentarily, the corners of his lips lifting up in helpless surrender as he laughed, his eyes crinkling. “Yes,” he agreed, “maybe I do just have a shitty attitude.” The word was coarse in his mouth, completely displaced amid his more polished speech. “Maybe that’s why I’ve been left here all by my lonesome. Poor me.”
His teeth flashed as he laughed again, but again the sound was silky, a rich darkness making it boom in their crowded conversation.
Altair’s presence expanded and contracted so quickly, it bordered on dizzying. At one moment, he might overwhelm you with his presence – the next, you might think he was a man easily cowed. But when he dipped his chin down, once more meeting Jett’s eyes, the predator had slunk back into their golden depths, the searing yellow of an eagle’s gaze.
“If you’re a natural performer,” Altair said, “then I doubt you could ever be boring.”
He reached out his hand for Jett then, palm flat. “I confess I’ve never been one for road-trips, but you seem like you might actually be worth the journey.” And then, because he wanted to lighten the mood, keep the heat at a reasonable sizzle, he added, “Would the gentleman be interested in accompanying me on a rollercoaster or two? Or, dare I suggest, the haunted house?”
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