Haha, yeah.
In the meantime... Here's this!
The Poet
Characters; Ariodante/The Poet. Damasos/The General, Nikomedes/The Lieutenant, Reign Cobalt, Chapel Cobalt, and Euthymenes/The Medic mentioned.
Prompt; Whumpril Day 4 - Swaying
Word Count; 1,381.
TWs; Fighting, swearing, blood, injury, and minor character death. I mean… Murder? Suicide? Assisted suicide? What does this count as?? I’ll tag all three just in case.
Notes; Technically could take place in both AFCS and TAVA timelines. Maybe even in the ESPC timeline. Fun. Regardless, it takes place years before the main storylines of either of them.
*~*~*~*
Ariodante, contrary to popular belief, had never been a huge fan of being in the arena. Then again, according to popular belief, he was also named Hesiodos. He wasn’t too sure which name he preferred. Still, either one was better than the uninspired name the arena came up for him.
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“And across from the Soldier, stands our beloved Poet! Go and place your bets now everyone, this is sure to be one gruesome battle!”
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He appreciates the thought, he really does. And Ariodante doesn’t like to complain, truly. But Poet? Really? What kind of arena title is that? At least when he introduced himself as Hesiodos he put some thought into it. The name was rather fitting. Still, the rhetoric was nice. ‘Soldier VS Poet. Brawn VS Song. Which universal language will win? Violence or music?’ It was a fun little pretense for the fight, he’d admit to that. Some good old satire to catch people’s eyes. So he’d acknowledge the showmanship in it, if nothing else. It almost made him wonder if they’d been planning this fight all along and that was the only reason for how bad his title was.
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But, well. It wasn’t like he didn’t already know he’d win. No one could really stand up against him, not with his ability. It was hard to beat him when all he had to do was whistle a tune and watch them take their own life for him. He should be called Siren. Or Bard. Something like that. That would make more sense than Poet. And it sounded way cooler too anyways.
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Waiting for the betting time to end had never been fun. Especially when the fighter across from was acting like the fight would be easy. Which, okay, yeah, he saw the irony in that. He wasn’t an idiot. Still though, there were plenty of fighters with titles relating to battle so it wasn’t like it actually meant anything against him. Like Damasos! Or Nikomedes! They were literally the General and the Lieutenant! Respectively. ‘Soldier’ wasn’t really all that impressive. Nick could probably beat the guy in his sleep. He wasn’t worried. Like, at all. His magic fucking voice would win. Even if getting this guy to do his job for him took too long, he’d be fine. He’d just have to keep his distance for a little while. Then again, he always kept his distance anyways. There was no damn way he was about to let his shit have blood on it, after all. That stuff was hard to get out and he’d just rather not deal with it.
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He looked towards the crowd for a moment, wishing that they could just go ahead and start. When he looked back at his opponent, the Soldier smiled at him. Confident, wry, and oh so condescending. Like he was some little kid that’d be easy pickings. Ariodante smiled in turn, wide and unhinged, as much so as he could manage. Which was plenty enough to make the one across from him falter. Rethink just how easy this would be. Good. He was getting tired of people thinking he’d be easy just because of a title that didn’t actually mean anything. Especially since he was a favorite! Of the crowd, of other fighters, and even of the damn Cobalts running the place! It was just a little annoying, if he were being honest.
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“Bets are officially closed for the fight! Hopefully everyone is in their spots as the fight is on in–”
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Ariodante kept up his smile, shifting his foot just a bit back. Better to plan for distance than to not. His opponent shifting forwards was enough to prove that.
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“Three–”
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He rolled his shoulders, tapped his tongue against the back of his teeth. It’d be bad if he froze up again, he didn’t want a repeat of his first few fights here.
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“Two–”
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The fighter across from him wasn’t grinning anymore. Which was almost sad, given how wide his own still was. As long as he could keep his distance, he’d be fine. He’d be just fine. There was nothing to worry about. There never was anything to worry about here for him.
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“One!”
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The Soldier pushed off towards him and he whistled, testing the waters. His opponent didn’t stop, so he shifted, changing the pitch as he stepped back. A block of earth came up with it, and he watched as the other fighter had to switch up to avoid it. Ariodante grinned, whistled again, and continued backwards. Distance was important, he couldn’t forget that. Not here.
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Definitely not here, based on the weapon that was in the others’ hand now. It hadn’t been there earlier. Could they summon weapons? He was almost surprised the arena hadn’t tilted them ‘Blacksmith’ or something then, if so. He kept his grin up, he’d just have to be a bit more careful. As long as he was far enough away, he’d be fine. He almost wished he’d figured out the right pitch for teleportation already. He was sure he could do it, there was barely anything he couldn’t do with his voice, but he hadn’t figured it out yet. So he was stuck with the traditional methods of putting distance between them.
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He’d just keep up his whistle for now, slowly chip away at his opponent’s will. He’d get it down enough to get them to take their life for him eventually, he’d just have to wait. It wouldn’t be hard. It wouldn’t be. He had this in the bag, easy. Some slight technical difficulties weren’t enough to throw down his confidence. No offense, Euthymenes. The arming sword in his opponent’s hand shifting to a spear gave him enough of a warning to pitch his whistle differently again.
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He watched as the spear flew past and around him, flinging like a boomerang back towards his opponent. He definitely needed to work on his powers’ strength when it came to physical things, which was what he decided when the spear missed the Soldier. Whatever, it was fine. He’d still win. The annoyed look on the other fighters’ face told him enough. So he shifted how he stood and went back to his original whistling. He’d manage. He always did.
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Soldier was moving towards him again, slower than the first time, like they weren’t as sure in each step. Their weapon was back in their hand too, held tightly in the shape of a dagger. It was honestly amusing, and just a bit pathetic to him. Did they really expect to win against him with that of all things? Ariodante stopped whistling, just for a moment, a second of clarity. A second of silence where he stayed right where he was. A second of baiting, if his opponent actually knew anything.
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They didn’t. They rushed towards him in that split second, like all of their apprehension had fallen away. Like they’d found an opening. Like their guard was down.
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He whistled again, sharp and despairing even to his ears. His opponent stumbled back, and he watched, keeping up his newest whistle. The fighter across from him caught their balance, and stood there. Swaying, eyes glazing over in that same way every opponent eventually did against him. He fought to keep from smiling, changing his pitch at this point would be disastrous, after all.
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The Soldier looked around though, as if unsure of where they were. Unsteady on their feet, continuously having to shift to regain balance. Their breathing was heavy. Shallow and tragic in that way he loved to see at the end of a match. Proof of the moment he won. He saw the moment their eyes caught the steel of the dagger in their hand. Saw when the idea clicked. Saw when their hand tightened around the handle.
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And he saw when they brought onto their own neck, heard the cheering crowd and the announcer calling him as the victor of the fight. Heard when he stopped whistling and felt when he grinned, wide and sharp and bloodthirsty in the way the audience loved to see. Felt when he walked away, out of the ring and into the armory he never took a weapon from.
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None of it registered past the ringing in his ears left over from his whistling.
Spring Month: 2 
Day Weather: 
