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A 1x1 for Xuan and Quad
Featuring:
Reggie Flemings - Xuan
Brandon Abelson - Quad
Basic Outline
On an average Tuesday afternoon, Character 1 hears a voice. There's no subtle lead up or gradual progression, no, simply a voice that does not belong, speaking words that no one else can hear. The voice identifies itself and claims to be a hero/god of old, well loved during the great days, and they've decided to pay a visit to check in on human society and catch up on world affairs. In order to go on their little vacation, however, they have chosen Character 1 to serve as a host to their blessed goodness (ooh, lucky them). There's not much Character 1 can do but try and muddle through their regular routine, all while enduring commentary from the parasitic "hero" who's seemingly taken up residence in their head. This situation takes a turn for the weird when they stumble across Character 2, someone who can hear the voice as well. The reason for this is made clear shortly after - Character 2 is also the host of a tagalong deity.
Additional twists:
- the parasitic gods/heroes gradually gain strength and the ability to influence their hosts. Eventually some of the gods' characteristics begin to rub off on their hosts, i.e. Poseidon presenting an affinity for water or Anubis presenting a powerful desire to weigh things.
- this could come to a head with the deities finally manifesting in a more-or-less physical form (honestly I just enjoy the idea of waking up to find a surprise god crashing on your couch).
- alternatively, the hosts eventually build up to becoming the full human avatars of the gods, dealing with whatever that entails.
- there will be some s l o w b u r n involving old rivals turned...? |
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Name: Brandon Abelson
Age: 25
Gender: male
Deity: Sun Wukong
Profession: systems analyst - he's a recent hire, a small player in a national firm working in the field of strategy and data analytics. It's about as exciting as it sounds. Appearance: He's of slightly shorter than average stature, standing around 5'9", and with an average build. Although his hair and features are reminiscent of a darker complexion, his skin is relatively light in hue, and he bears a spattering of dark brown freckles at the base of his neck and at his collar. His hair is coal black, quick to grow and annoying to keep neat. It's a thick mop that's frustratingly impossible to style, and so he keeps it maintained in a basic manner: short and simple, with minimal effort. His features are somewhat broad and hastily defined, his almond shaped eyes brown and guarded. His brows are dark but thin, easy to overlook at a glance. He has a light brush of hair across his upper lip, and thin sideburns that extend to the base of his ears.
His usual attire is nothing impressive or standout, and he favors slacks and neat button up shirts. While he hasn't a particularly keen eye for fashion, he dresses well enough to never look sloppy, often overdressing for occasions. This isn't out of any desire to show off. Rather the opposite, as he tends to worry about looking appropriate for the occasion. As a child, he rarely ran about in t-shirts and shorts in part due to a more conservative upbringing and a less rebellious nature. Surprisingly, he's actually relaxed a bit as he's gotten older, although he still believes that first impressions are judged largely from appearance and dresses accordingly. *Personality: Reliable, Passive, Dull, Rigid, and Predictable.
Easy to miss in a crowd, he has never been one who craves the spotlight. He's happier in the background, watching the world move by and contributing whenever he feels comfortable. Burdened with the unfortunate trait of a stubborn childhood stutter, he never quite learned the confidence that might come so easily to others. There was even a brief period around age eight where he found it easier not to talk at all, leading his family to wonder whether their adopted son had more emotional baggage than they'd bargained for. And although the stutter did eventually smooth out with age, it does resurface from time to time, much to his chagrin. Even as an adult, he has retained much of his childhood shyness. He remains largely introverted and can come across as withdrawn or aloof. Conflict and confrontation stress him out to a ridiculous degree. The idea of sending a meal back while eating out is a foreign concept; he'd much rather be personally inconvenienced than risk inconveniencing someone else. Fearful of avoidable consequences, he has always been something of a stickler for rules, and has garnered a reputation as a stick in the mud. As such, he's not terribly flexible, finding it stressful to navigate change in even small ways.
This rigidity does, however, allow him to excell in other ways, such as when pouring over data for hours on end at work. In such situations his amazing attention to detail is invaluable. Other: Born to an unprepared mother and absent father, Brandon bounced around in the foster system for only a few years before being adopted by a couple in their 40's who had been unsuccessful in having children. He was raised as a single child in a small family environment and fell into a quiet, but productive conformity, eventually finding outlets in academics, music, and robotics.
*personality is very much subject to change under the divine influence - fully planning on turning him more hot headed and brash over time |
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Darkseeker
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╭──────────────────╮ "Reggie" Flemings ╰──────────────────╯ "𝑾𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒘𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒃𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒑𝒐𝒊𝒏𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒍𝒊𝒇𝒆 𝒊𝒇 𝒊𝒕 𝒘𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒋𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒚𝒐𝒖?" 〖 23 ⟐ Masculine ⟐ Asexual Biromantic 〗 ⟐ Full Name Reginald Jamie Flemings ⟐ Nickname Reggie ⟐ Deity Apollo | A rather cliche choice, though Reggie's personality revolves around the sun much like the Greek god twin of Artemis. Apollo is heavily associated with rodents, even being called "Apollo the Lord of Mice" at some points in mythology.   
⟐ Occupation Assistant Veterinarian ⟐ Hobbies Occasional song-writer though almost immediately trashes the piece after finishing. ⟐ Skill Has enough street-smarts that he can survive alone, though is consistently terrified of dogs and loud vehicles or man-made advancements. ⟐ Appearance He stands at a relatively tall 5 feet and 11 inches, a majority of his height battling in his legs and body, though winning in the lower regions. He towers over, occasionally being intimidating until they read his features, but the feeling regarding him can be rather complex when the sharp eyes of his come in. His build could be categorized somewhere between lean and muscular, though more so of the former than the latter. Reggie gets most of his strength circulating in his legs, and he jokes that the only reason he has any is due to the fact that he always runs from dogs, and he does genuinely enjoy running, though not being chased by something meanwhile. His skin tone is a warmer color, a tan that sits there until summer comes along and darkens it, and the same with winter, though paling in comparison to summer. His skin is clear of freckles and visible scars, as he completely loathes any injuries in any way. A blush is commonly on his face, as he’s generally an emotional person. Any strong-felt emotion results in his face blazing up, and the rest of his body feeling warm throughout. A slightly helpful thing during winter, he attempts to persuade himself. It also shows off the entirety of his emotions, though it can truly be read easier in his posture. A try at reading them in his eyes will surely fail, as the deep color of them hold only a coolness and splash of amber. The eyes darting around in his head are brown, its depths swimming viciously. Small splashes of amber smart everywhere, the pupils sharpened with an intelligence hidden by his grin and blush. Emotions refuse to fight their way here, residing in his body language and facial features. The orbs don’t have a definite shape, but do any eyes truly? They’re both angled and narrowed in concentration. Some see him as a pathetic human until they see the eyes and wonder who he stole them from based on the almost complete differences. The eyebrows accompanying his features are full and deep in color, angular. His eyelashes swoop from the tips of his eyes and out in a wave-like appearance, something he rather hates, though finds the lashes relatively good stress relievers. He has short brown hair, light waves and curls popping in throughout. The color stays quite thoroughly a solid, though under lighting can brighten and glow. His hair is full and flowing, though never really taken care of, and simply brushed back to avoid strands dancing in his eyes. Reggie refrains from allowing his hair to grow long, though if need be he would grow it out. If his hair were to break over his vision, he would pull it back and tie it up into a ponytail or bun, a rather rare and entertaining sight to behold. His facial features are narrowed and smaller, giving him a more childish look, occasionally being considered younger, much to his displeasure. Reggie prefers looking older and more mature over looking young and ignorant. ⟐ Short Personality Emotional ⟐ Warm ⟐ Oblivious ⟐ Flustered ⟐ Kind ⟐ Straight-Forward ⟐ Loyal ⟐ Clingy ⟐ Dreamer ⟐ Optimist ⟐ Lover ⟐ Happy-Go-Lucky ⟐ Intelligent ⟐ Curious ⟐ Competitive ⟐ Generally Sweet ⟐ Teasing ⟐ Sarcastic ⟐ Horribly Terrified of Dogs ⟐ Adores all Cats and Rats ⟐ Passionate ⟐ Out-Spoken ⟐ Personality As a dreamer and optimist with an emotional demeanor, his moods are relatively output and vibrant, his main personality traits guarding his interchanging minor emotion. He could be easily considered a generally warm person, quite kind and open. He’s a passionate person who falls in love too easily and trusts even easier. He finds it rather heart-wrenching when one is to betray that trust or shatter a piece of his heart and not return the broken part. Reggie gives out pieces of his heart to almost anyone once they have grabbed his trust, and they tend to hold onto that piece to patch their own cracks up, not focusing on the fact that his own cracks have nothing they can use to mend themself. Don’t mistake him for a dependent person, he’s generally an independent living person, cutting all ties off with the real world before sporadically returned tentatively. He has a rather creative and intelligent mind, knowing much about the world. Though he does own a good handful of book-smarts in him, he categorizes himself under the moreso street-smarts area, always looking out for danger even though he doesn’t truly notice it until it rakes its claws down his face. Reggie can be a sarcastic, teasing person who’s rather outspoken, though he never sticks to one, sole idea, completely preferring outside thoughts alongside his own. He’s easily flustered and embarrassed, a straight-forward comment of his being flipped upside-down. He can also be a clingy person, yet being a loyal person has perk on his end, though mostly on others. Reggie doesn’t enjoy change, but also has fun with trying new things especially. He can be oblivious to the outside world at times, constantly needing a companion that genuinely pays attention to the reality of the world to accompany him. His happy-go-lucky sort of viewpoint is rather irritating, considering how harsh the world can be, but he takes it into stride, both insults and cruel, verbal words. He’s generally sweet and lovable, but has completely outgrown his childhood, though seeing little children enjoying the things he used to as a child puts a small smile on his face. He doesn’t always watch his words, being considered an idiotic adult who has no filter. And they are correct, in some ways. The filter on his words is weak and flimsy, letting unwatched words come out without a knowledge of them even being formed in the first place. He can be out-going and obnoxious at times, but he’s never self-centered, much unlike the sun his personality revolves around. He doesn’t see the point of caring simply for yourself. As he would put it: What would be the point of life if it were just for you? He adores any type of music, and even though Reggie turns at the sight of violence and weapons, he has an odd fascination with the spear and bow and arrow. It’s simply a rather interesting concept to him and how physics bends at the power of simple weapons as they arc through the air, powered simply by human strength. With his curious and sunny personality, most wouldn’t expect him to be as competitive as he is, but a good win is something all enjoy, is it not? Reggie isn’t a sore loser, but he does feel annoyance spark at the loss in anything, even some small game. He wants to win. He feels the need to win. It can be slightly concerning, but much is concerning when it comes to his contradicting personality. Reggie is horribly scared of dogs, though he adores all animals, especially loving cats and the rodents that most find despicable: rats. He manages to work around his fear of the domesticated canines. Reggie cannot fully function around them when he isn’t the one in control over them. When he isn’t the higher-ranking member of the room. If they’re leashed or in a cage of sorts, he can work with them, even touch them and have a small, coddling smile on his face. He can’t say no to animals, no matter how terrified he is of them, or how much he loathes the creature. Reggie could never own a dog, but he would most definitely own a cat or a rodent, preferably a rat, and he would give them a luxury of a life. |
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Brandon was pretty sure he was going crazy. He'd never gone crazy before, but a feverish hour or so of internet searching had pointed him in the right direction. And, according to the various forums and internet medical advice he'd dug up, hearing voices was a seriously bad sign. What he'd found wasn't reassuring. Did schizophrenia run in his family? He had no idea and even if he'd wanted to ask, there was no one to answer. Memories of his bio mother were vague, foggy. Memories of his bio father were nonexistent. Most of his early memories consisted of group homes, foster siblings, friendships forged and then lost in the fires of crisis and the unknown. This medical mystery would have to be resolved on his own. Then again, it had only happened once, so maybe it wasn't such a cause for alarm after all? He'd just heard a few words, barely above a whisper resonating somewhere in the back of his skull. It was impossible to tell whether the voice had originated from inside his mind or somewhere without, but he had a distinct feeling of it belonging elsewhere. He just knew that it wasn't his voice, and hoped his brain wasn't clever enough to betray himself in such a vicious way. It had started that morning. Groggy and half washed as he scrolled through the news and fed the cat, he wasn't in the proper headspace to handle sudden high strangeness. Where are we? Hello? Where is this? A voice broke abruptly into his mundane routine. Startled at the sudden clarity and still addled with sleep, Brandon dropped his phone and nearly sent his mug of hot coffee flying. The cat bolted, offended, with a hiss and a quick lash of tiger striped tail. Brandon didn't respond to the voice. Why would he? Maybe it had come from a passing car radio or a television in the next apartment over. Talking to himself was somehow worse than simply hearing things. Like admitting the craziness of the situation. Somehow, slowly, after a long stretch of uncomfortable silence as he waited for something to happen, he managed to pick up and resume his morning routine. The cat returned, the coffee reheated, the phone retrieved. The day continued. As the afternoon rolled around with no further signs of strange voices, he'd stopped thinking about the weirdness of that morning. He could have happily moved on with his life and forgotten all about it, but he had the misfortune to wander past a smoothie shop rimmed with neon lights in the shapes of palm trees and pineapples, which again caused the voice to stir. Just since the morning, it now sounded much clearer, brighter, and disturbingly eager about...mangoes. Even worse, the voice was also accompanied by a vague image of copper eyes flitting through Brandon's mind, bright as new pennies. Is that mango? I want some mango. Oh it's been ages since I last had some mango. Get it. Get it right now. The voice had come so strongly, so clearly, that Brandon spun about as if to try and catch a glimpse of the owner. He could have swore that it had come from some space near his right shoulder. His hands were fidgeting, softly anxious as he scanned the people closest to him. Absolutely no one was paying him any attention. A woman disappeared into a shop with a brown shipping box. A cluster of teenagers lounged at a table outside the smoothie joint, sipping from long straws stuck in plastic cups. A man walked a tiny dog dressed in an equally tiny hoodie across the street. "I don't even like mangoes." Brandon mumbled to no one, utterly nonplussed and at a loss. Now he was more convinced that he'd just overheard a snippet of someone's conversation. Why would his own internal voices be craving things he didn't like? He tried to shake it off and keep going, but the voice returned in a shocked outburst as though personally slighted by the anti-mango sentiments. It blasted into his ears like he'd accidentally left his headphones at max volume. What! That's impossible. Just go get some mangoes and we'll change your mind. Hurry up. He cringed at the outburst, fully expecting someone to shoot him a dirty look for holding an overly loud conversation, and couldn't say whether he was relieved or worried when no one seemed to notice. Mangoes. Let's go already. The voice again, agitated and huffy as it urged him towards the shop. Well, maybe a smoothie would shut down whatever bizarre part of his brain had decided that it liked mangoes. At the very least, he told himself, it couldn't possibly hurt. |
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Darkseeker
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He had been trying to finish up writing the report his senior veterinarian called for on occasions for the branching zoo, eyes narrowed in concentration. Hidden in the interactive bird enclosure, Reggie was comforted by the presence of the small, cheery birds, their voices rising as if in a musical argument. He was always told not to “bother” the birds, but they didn't seem irritated at his mere presence. One particularly bold bird Reggie had learned to adore hopped around on a ledge nearby, hooting lightly. “Good morning Apollo. How are ya this morning?” Reggie watched as the bird neared closer, peering inquisitively. Oh thank the gods someone’s recognized me. I can’t handle the insignificance of being treated like a nobody. The voice sounded eager and plaintive, a young man’s tones. Reggie almost leaped a foot into the air, scrambling back into the wall behind him. “Excuse me- what?” He stared at the small, proud bird with wide-eyes. “The bird’s- talking?” Those who knew him occasionally joked that Reggie met the requirements “necessary” to be sent to the nuthouse. This event obviously proved their statements to be true. He blinked up numerous times at the bird, shock written all over his features. Bird? That bird? Oh no, no. I’m Apollo! The Greek Deity? The Olympian? Reggie laughed in hysterical relief, the small thought that he was going crazy dispersing. He had almost been convinced the speaker was in his mind, or that they were in the same room as him. Standing up to grab the things he had dropped in his weak gesture to get away from the bird, Reggie rubbed the back of his head tiredly. “Alright then. I’ll see you next time, Apollo.” He walked towards the door and mockingly saluted the plump little bird. A range of protests blared in his head from that same voice, though Reggie only laughed to himself, sounding quite insane, humorful reactions issuing in a room alone with only birds. The amused male shut the netted door to the bird enclosure, then the decorated entrance door. Reggie shook his head, muttering under his breath and chuckling at his stupidity. He made his way towards the large predator exhibits, admiring the larger cats one last time before he would have to make his inevitable departure from the zoo. Reggie was able to continue on with the morning and some of the afternoon without much odd troubles, besides the voice continuing to comment on every little thing. Reggie assured himself, aloud, unfortunately, that it was just his self-conscious, though the voice had indignantly replied it was Apollo. Yet again. He had wrapped up his shift for the day at work, strolling down the block carelessly. Apollo seemed to want to explore everything, in awe of the bright and overwhelming streets of the city. Can we just go to at least one concert? Or at least some musical or play? “As if I could afford one,” Reggie muttered drily. He had come to the conclusion that “Apollo” only could hear the responses Reggie said out loud to the nagging voice. And that the inward commentator had vivid, stormy eyes full of curiosity and excitement. Reggie didn’t know what made him think of that, but that was what he saw. Okay Mr. “I-can’t-afford-anything”. Can we at least get something to drink? How about that place over there? Reggie felt a slight shift in his attention and grumbled, begrudgingly turning to look at a smoothie shop, neon lights depicting a tropical paradise illuminating a supposed refreshing delight. “Really? A smoothie shop?” The response was retorted with an irritated sourness. Well since you don’t have any flair, then I might as well see the world in your eyes so I can make the best of it. Do you have a problem with this smoothie shop, Reggie? “I guess not?” Then let’s go. “Pushy, pushy,” Reggie mumbled at the air, feeling quite ridiculous talking to absolutely nothing but a voice and a pair of eyes. He walked towards the smoothie shop to calm the voice down. He pushed the door to the shop open and was delighted to find the line small, though there was a mass of people daintily sipping at their smoothies with grins. He approached the second line cautiously, glancing up at the menu curiously. Reggie caught himself on the verge of speaking to “Apollo,” scanning the room as if someone would catch his hesitation. He pulled out his phone and acted as if he were calling someone. “What do you want? What are you doing- Oh yes, that is very smart. Good move. Hmm, how about that strawberry banana? Or the banana, mango, pineapple thing? Oh, I do love this. Such strange concoctions you mortals enjoy. “Apollo” sounded as if he were quite having a kick out of the simple task, though, Reggie mused inwardly, it is the little things that make life quite fun. He put the device away and paid for the second drink the voice had requested. The cashier told him to wait for a moment while they got the drink made. He thanked them and walked towards the wall, turning to lean back against it. We have to wait? “What, you thought you would get your drink before all these people who’ve been waiting?” Reggie nodded towards the others patiently standing beside him, his voice lower than a whisper. Yes? What else would have happened? I am an immortal, Reggie, and I have never had one of these strange drinks before. Is that not enough of an excuse? Reggie almost wheezed with laughter. |
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(sorry kinda bleh but I really wanted to get something posted finally)
After a bit more coaxing (mostly involving him being admonished by the disembodied voice for not liking mangoes), Brandon reluctantly pressed his way into the smoothie shop, gaze sweeping the inside. It was what he'd describe as tourist vegan chic, with a neon palm tree on the door and boho styled bird-shaped wall hangings. Not distractingly gaudy, but not quite his scene either.
"They have mango smoothies - happy?" He muttered as he scanned the menu, more out of habit than any real sense of desire. He already knew what he was getting, as if the voice would allow him to stray beyond the realm of tropical orange fruits.
See? They're getting mangoes.
"What do you mean they?" Brandon shot back, then stopped short. It was getting worse. Now he was having full blown conversations with himself. Great. His gaze automatically followed where the voice had seemed to indicate, and he spotted a young man waiting idly for his smoothie order. He was probably twenty-ish, maybe younger, and rather tall, and there was nothing at all to draw Brandon's attention except for the fact that he seemed to be talking without opening his mouth. Something about mortals, immortals, and fruits. Okay. Not entirely out of the realm of possibility, but it was definitely weird. Maybe someone else was talking and Brandon just perceived it as coming from the other guy. Maybe he was a ventriloquist who got his kicks from messing with smoothie shop patrons. As he was mulling the situation over, the voice kicked in again, high and excited.
Another to assist in our quest! They're undoubtedly unenlightened, but no matter. Improvement comes along with the journey of self. Of course, true enlightenment is beyond the reach of most mortals, but the other one - maybe. There's potential, given enough time and dedication. Let’s talk to them.
Brandon had no idea what the voice was rambling on about, and he was afraid to ask at this point. Enlightenment and quests and mangoes, it was enough to drive him mad. He shook his head, trying his best to ignore the voice as he waited for his smoothie order. It might have worked, too, if the voice hadn't practically shouted at the stranger with all the subtlety of a wrecking ball.
Hello there, hi, yes you! I can see you have good taste. Would you care to accompany us on my quest?
Startled by the vocal outburst that only seemed to matter to him, Brandon uttered a throaty scoff and an exhasperated, "really?", while side eyeing the other young man waiting on his order. He wasn't sure what he was expecting. "Why? Why can't you bother someone else?" |
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Darkseeker
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The entity in his head and Reggie were beginning to have more and more conversations, the indignant “deity” commentating on everyone in the shop. Reggie was forcing himself to remain calm and not punch himself in the face. A slight voice came from somewhere in the shop. It gave Reggie the same feeling as Apollo did, but not nearly as warm and sunny as Apollo, who was currently saying how wearing scarves in the summer was so last century. Reggie was too busy glancing around when Apollo began talking about how immortals weren’t too different from mortals, except that immortals were all-powerful and were literal gods. He made eye contact with a man around mid-twenties, a bit on the shorter spectrum, and a voice coming from his direction, without his mouth moving. Reggie narrowed his eyes. Apollo finally stopped speaking and the mental, storm-blue eyes Reggie had envisioned from Apollo seemed to turn and glare at this new person as well. Oh gods. Not another one. Reggie didn’t have time to ask what “other one” Apollo meant. The voice from the other person kicked in again, excited and loud. It began rambling about a quest, potential, enlightenment, and mortals. He was tempted to ignore the person, but curiosity got the better. The smoothie Apollo had gleefully requested was finally ready. “Apollo!” A worker was glancing down at the cup curiously but didn’t seem to think much of the fact that Reggie had told them his name was “Apollo”. Hurry up. I haven’t gotten to really try any fruits in decades, and you’re the second best thing to get to experience the pleasure again. Reggie obliged, somewhat unwillingly. “Thank you,” was all he muttered to the worker who handed him his smoothie. Reggie made his way back to the wall and leaned against it, sipping idly at his smoothie. His eyes followed the man who had seemed to speak without moving his lips, going to order a smoothie himself. His focus was directed solely on this man, who finished his order. Reggie was beginning to believe he had imagined the voice. That is, until it began to excitedly yell in his direction. He flinched, and Apollo irritably hissed. This is my human. Sod off. You already have your own. Reggie was split between wondering if he actually had good taste, the fact that the other voice was saying something of a quest, and whether or not the voice was genuinely coming from the other man. The man began scolding his inward voice, then Reggie was definitely sure that he wasn’t imagining things. “Why? Why can’t you bother someone else?” The man seemed beyond exasperation, probably as fed up with his “deity” as Reggie was. He was tempted to go over and converse when he finally, finally, recognized this man. “Oh gods above,” Reggie grumbled. Just his luck. Just his luck. What’s wrong? “Well, technically I hate that guy, and technically, he hates me. Long story short, we don’t get along very well.” |
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It took a moment - probably a bit too long in truth - for recognition to kick it. Granted, it had been a few years at this point since they'd last encountered each other, but as he studied Reggie, he realized that he had hardly aged. Reggie must be what - 23 or 24 by now, but he looked only a few degrees off from the teenager he'd known way back when. How long had it been? And of all places, a smoothie shop. Life could be funny that way. Brandon was a bit taken aback. He couldn't help but stare, the sheer audacity of the situation rendering him momentarily speechless. As if his day wasn't already completely thrown off track, now he was bumping into living reminders of his own ancient history. He was briefly saved from greeting Reggie by the cheerful voice cutting cleanly and completely into his train of thought, talking to - well, he wasn't sure, but it wasn't him for once. Hey don't get your tail in a twist, I was just saying hello. Fate has had us meet from a thousand miles away, so let's not let a couple of humans ruin immortal relations, huh? I don't think we've met, my fellow mango aficionado. Sun Wukong, the immortal warrior, the unbreakable hero, the invulnerable shapeshifter. I'm sure you've heard tell of my daring feats. The minds of men have adored me for millennia. Although Brandon couldn't see the voice which had just identified itself, he imagined the owner's smug tone accompanied by a deep bow and a flourish. This guy certainly thought highly of himself.
"Reginald?" Brandon scoffed aloud, tone curt with surprise. He didn't know what else to say. What did one say in these sorts of situations? He was a bit too stunned and confused to do much else but fix Reggie with a bemused expression, eyes darting around as if searching for the invisible company. "Are you uh, doing okay there?" You're talking to yourself, was what he wanted to say, but he considered the problematic nature of pointing such a contradiction out. And it was very difficult to think when a voice was chattering incessantly in his head. Stop, please stop, he urged the voice silently as it said something about dragons. His tongue betrayed his intense discomfort, a stutter he'd thought long gone slipping briefly into his words, "H-how've you been? Getting a smoothie?" |
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Darkseeker
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Brandon looked utterly different to Reggie as his entity introduced themself. Sun Wukong, was the entity's name. Both Reggie and Brandon had always been at odds as teenagers, though now they were grown men, both in their 20s. Apollo, meanwhile through the chaos, was irritably gnashing his teeth inside Reggie's head, which was beginning to grow a headache. Life sure was an interesting thing as Reggie narrowed his eyes at the other, head pounding in completely confusion and puzzlement. Reggie was tempted to greet Brandon for sheer curtesy, but thought better of it. In any case, it was more of Brandon's fault for their slight misalignment then it was Reggie's. Of course, immortal relations are oh so wonderful, I must admit. No. I have never met someone quite as irritating and thinking so highly of themself, much like yourself. You must have heard of me, though. I am Apollo. The Greek god. The one who's a god of so many things even the mortals can't keep track altogether. I was allowed the title of god of music, healing, archery, the sun, and so much more. My twin sister, Artemis, shares some of those titles with me, but I don't believe she has the same charm and, er, shininess as I do. Mortals have all adored and cherish me. They worship me, they shower me with praise, they all hand over many sacrificial offerings over willingly. Reggie choked on a laugh, hiding it by drinking the smoothie Apollo had ordered. It seemed both deities had something in common: Their belief of how high they stood. Apparently Apollo believed he was greater than both his godly twin sister and the entity named "Sun Wukong". His eyes darted upwards at Brandon's words, a narrowing and daggered glint in his gaze sharpening the look. Reginald, was what he called him. Reginald. How dare he, even after all these years. Brandon knew perfectly well how much Reggie reviled his full name. However much those mere couple years seperated their ages, Reggie still believed that Brandon was incredibly smug with himself, what with his way of using Reggie's full name. Reggie himself was smug that he had managed to grow taller then Brandon, however much those two inches amounted to the two years that seperated them. "Brandon," Reggie replied lightly. "Of course. Why would I not be well? You also seem to be having a rough day, considering you're beginning to talk to yourself." And I am as well. "No. I brought a smoothie from another shop just to drink it here." Reggie had always and will always be a sarcastic person. It was in his nature to snap back at others with his dry and lazy retorts. Calm, Reginald. We are calm. The interruption from Apollo was slightly infuriating, but Reggie refused to toss a reply back. It involved effort, and the irritating Deity wasn't worth the trouble. "Anyways, I'm good. Met a new friend today. Very infuriating. How have you been, Brandon?" The genuine time it took to be kind and laid-back towards Brandon took quite the motivation, but he persisted, nonetheless. "I hope you've been well, and your companion, too." What was the worst that could happen, commentating about the other voice stuck and following Brandon? Possibly Reggie having imagined the whole day, but it didn't matter. He needed validation about this affair, and needed it now. |
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Neutral
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The voice had identified itself, which should have perhaps been a relief when it didn't claim to be Brandon's inner conscience or whatever. He really didn't need his life turning into a Jiminy Cricket scenario. But on the other hand the identification was of little help considering that he had no idea who or what this Sun Wukong voice was. As far as he knew, his insanity was just ramping up into creating new personalities now. He squinted over as Reggie - or his invisible friend - introduced himself as Apollo, the Greek god.
Now that name he recognized. He remembered learning about that stuff in school, and it was almost impossible not to absorb some Greek mythology through movies and media in this day and age. The pantheon included gods like Artemis, Zeus, and Hercules. They lived on Mount Olympus and liked to mess with people by making them kill one another over minor conflicts. He remembered very little of his schooling, but at least it was something. It made him feel slightly more grounded.
Oh yes, I've heard of you Greeks. The bloody sort, almost as bad as the Assyrians. Never been a big fan of gods in general, but then again, I haven't met too many. I can say from first hand experience that they don't tend to last too long around my neck of the woods. Say, didn't your lot drive a whole civilization to war and self destruction for entertainment? Very charming indeed.
Great, now the voice was actively insulting someone else. A flash of panic and a flush of color flew into his cheeks when Reggie said that he was talking to himself. Shit. Was his insanity that obvious? He'd been betting on appearing like any average person hooked into a bluetooth device, but he'd clearly bet wrong. Quiet and subtle, he had always hated the idea of drawing attention to himself, especially negative attention. And this was hands down the worst kind of negative attention.
"What? I wa-was on the phone." He began to stammer an excuse, but jumped when he heard his name called from the counter. His - no, Sun Wukong's mango smoothie was ready. He excused himself awkwardly and slipped away to pick up the drink order. The snide comment irked him, but he was too flustered and out of sorts to complain.
He could grab the smoothie and dash, cut his losses and evade this whole ordeal. It wasn't like he'd ever encounter Reggie again, and it didn't matter what he thought anyway. But then again, it couldn't hurt to just...ask. The smoothie was cold styrofoam in his grasp as he stepped close, his voice low and hesitant as he spoke with grave seriousness, "You can hear that?"
Could you please just drink the mango thing. I've been waiting for centuries over here.
He ignored the voice pleading for the drink and continued, testing, gauging, asking, "Your friend...Apollo?"
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Fall 
Night Weather: 
Light Rain Moon: 
