Jensen Eliopoulos | Alexei, Cyrus, Myra

Jensen strolled across an open corridor on the family estate, no longer bothering to shield himself from the torrential downpour that had been coming down in sheets for over two hours. Earlier in the morning he might’ve made some halfhearted attempt at keeping the rain off his face or his clothing, but now that he had been thoroughly soaked to the bone and the situation was hopeless, he allowed his hands to drop to his sides, squinting through the mist in an ill-fated attempt to see more clearly through the storm.

The most irritating thing about the weather to Jensen was that, through everything, the sky was sunny. It seemed to be mocking him as he took uneven strides toward the grandiose mansion sitting on the other end of the island, farther away from where the children launched their boats on the family’s dock. He hardly understood why they were the ones who had to make the farther walk to the family home even when there were no guests here, and this thought festered in his mind as he felt the uncomfortable sloshing of his shoes on the trail that led from where he’d been to where he was going.

As he finally reached the pristine main lawn of the home, Jensen cast a wary glance toward the guest docks and was unsurprised to see that one of Cyrus’ boats was docked in the guest slip. He’d been given notice the night prior that a fill-in rider was coming to stay with the family for the summer, which was most of what had driven an otherwise unmotivated and out of shape polo player to get up at dawn to vacate the premises. Jensen had never been fond of his father’s visitors, especially when Cyrus actually looked forward to their company. Given that Jensen despised his stepfather for a plethora of reasons, any visitors he liked, his stepson hated by association. He only hoped the man had arrived after the mid-morning showers had started, and the guest’s boat ride was half as intolerable as his had been.

As slowly as possible, Jensen opened the massive front doors of the mansion in order to avoid any possible communication with anyone who might’ve been in the house. All he wanted to do was shower and catch up on the sleep he’d lost since he’d come home for the summer and leave any necessary interactions for dinner, when alcohol would be an appropriate and encouraged way to make things more tolerable. However, just as he made it to the staircase to successfully exit the premises, he heard Cyrus’ voice call out to him from the main living area. He must have heard him through the conversation, or seen his shadow as he passed through the tall hallway that opened into the area he was in with his guests.

Knowing that continuing on with his day and eliciting Cyrus’ rage so early in the afternoon would not be his most effective choice, Jensen paused, exhaled slowly, then turned around, finding his way down the steps and allowing his gaze to deliberately float over the puddles that he had created from his first trip through this area. He paid as much attention as he could to ensuring that he didn’t slip on the marble staircase as a result of his own mistakes, the most glaring of which was that he hadn’t successfully evaded this interaction. Still, he kept the remainder of his concentration on gluing an expression to his face that didn’t resemble the disdain he felt within, stepping into the vision of a handful of people, only one of which he cared to see.

“Ah, there he is, my beautiful stepson,” Cyrus patted Jensen’s cheek with his hand, but it came with so much force that it felt more like a slap. Jensen squirmed under the attention of Cyrus, Myra, and their staff, not to mention the new figure who stood adjacent to him. He was a smaller, muscular man about Cyrus’ height, although he was much younger and more fit than the riders that his stepfather typically recruited. Although this man was supposed to be serving as a last minute fill-in, it still surprised the young man that his father hadn’t found someone closer to his own age and who screamed toxic male aggression to fill this position. Although he’d entirely avoided looking at the new rider thus far, partially out of arrogance and partially out of a desire to appear disinterested so he might be excused sooner, Jensen only briefly allowed his pale green eyes to brush over the young rider’s facial expression, catching a band of freckles over his tanned nose and cheeks before meeting his gaze. Before it went too long, Jensen awkwardly extended his hand out to the man, introducing himself.

“Jensen,” he offered his first name, assuming that his legal last name spoke for itself. Mustering up the slightest smile, he turned and said, “it’s a pleasure, I’m sure I’ll see you around.” With that, the young man exited up the stairs, hearing some lingering talk from the floor below about a party that Cyrus had elected to throw in honor of the man’s arrival. As usual, the Eliopoulos family did not miss an opportunity for a party, and their rich friends would not miss an opportunity to network with the most illustrious family in the world for an evening, even if there was a continued chance of rain until well into the early morning hours.

Alexei yawned and rubbed at his eyes, peering out into the thick expanse of fog that hung over the sea. The boat swayed gently under his feet, and his stomach lurched. He dreaded the idea of sailing off this mist, but the driver who had picked him up from the airport had informed him curtly that the island was only accessible by boat. It seemed a bit inconvenient to Alexei. If these people were wealthy enough to own an entire island, why not just build themselves their own little airfield?

The boat rocked again, and then they were drifting deeper into the fog. Alexei stared mournfully at the shore as it vanished into the mist. He had gotten a tiny glance at the barn and other facilities on their way to the dock. The barn had been massive, the size of a mansion, and he had spotted at least three arenas scattered around it. He'd wanted to stop and get a better look, but his meeting with Cyrus Eliopoulos was at 6 - ridiculously early - and they had to account for the time the boat crossing would take up.

Tiny water droplets were already plastering his face and lashes, blurring his vision, so Alexei tugged his hood over his head. He had come straight from a barn in Louisiana and suspected he would take a while to acclimate to the colder weather. His old trainer had... discharged him from the facility after a particularly vile screaming match. That didn't bother Alexei. He had been the best thing to happen to that barn in a long time, and he doubted they would ever be able to convince someone at his level to ride for them again.

The captain of the boat had promised that the trip to the island would be short, and he was blessedly right. The dock loomed suddenly out of the fog; Alexei was convinced they would crash into it, but the captain steered the craft deftly alongside it instead. Vaguely, he could make out the silhouette of one of the largest homes he'd every seen.

It had begun to rain harder during the trip. Alexei stepped carefully onto the slippery wood of the dock to find a small army of people waiting for him. They all wore identical black outfits; employees, he guessed, unless the family was running some sort of secret cult out here. "Uh, hello."

The group swarmed around him with startlingly efficiently, pulling his luggage from his hands, inquiring about his trip, and offering him an umbrella, which he declined. They ushered him off of the dock, and he got his first real glimpse of the island.

The soil beneath his feet was soft, more sand than dirt. He could see the outlines of a few nearby trees, but the rest of the island seemed relatively open. The staff led him onto a path inlaid with crushed seashells and a few glimmering stones that reminded him of pearls. The manor loomed suddenly out of the fog as they drew closer. Alexei suspected that it was beautiful in the sunlight, but the heavy fog gave its exerior an unsettling appearance. The yard was perfectly manicured and decorated with scattered stone statues, complete with an intricately carved fountain spouting crystal-clear water in the center. The manor itself was staggeringly massive; it looked as though it was comprised of multiple large buildings interconnected with exterior corridors. The structure before him was the largest, however, and obviously intended to be the crown jewel of the island.

The staff escorted him up a flight of spotless stone stairs and through a pair of heavy oak doors with intricate silver trappings. Alexei was dimly aware that he was gaping with his mouth wide open and probably looked like an idiot, but he couldn't bring himself to care. He stood in a gargantuan foyer with floors of marble and walls of rich dark wood. Doors leading deeper into the labryinthian house lined the walls, and a massive staircase sat squarely in the center of the room, dim light shining down on him through the huge window panes at its top.

Once he had finished gawking, he turned to discover that the staff had begun to disperse and his bags had disappeared. The thought of trying to figure out where he was supposed to go in this maze of a house was daunting, and he was about to chase after one of the black-clothed employees to ask for directions when one of the larger doors along the wall swung open and a booming voice called out his name.

Alexei recognized the man immediately. He'd done a bit of stalking online after he'd gotten the offer to come train for the Eliopoulos family. He had expected Cyrus to be taller, but the man stood almost even with him.

Alexei extended his arm for a handshake, but Cyrus, striding towards him, bypassed it. Alexei flinched away for a moment, but Cyrus still enveloped him in a hug that felt like it was intended to crack all of his ribs.

Alexei was attempting to calculate how much longer he would be able to breathe at this rate when Cyrus finally released him and clapped a hand onto his shoulder. "It's so good to see you in person. Your boat ride went well, I'm sure?"

Alexei, still feeling like several of his bones had been crushed, said, "Yeah, it was fine-"

"Good." Cyrus cut him off and launched into a long-winded tirade about the manor, island, and riding facilities, steering him back into the room he'd emerged from. Alexei didn't mind; he was used to men who loved to hear themselves talk.

Within the room was an extravagant brick fireplace, surrounded by a few expensive-looking leather chairs. A few staff members stood around the room; Alexei wondered idly if they were security guards. A pretty girl who looked to be around his age leaned against one of the backs of the leather chairs. She raised her fingers in a small wave when he caught her eye, and he smiled at her. Cyrus briefly introduced her as his daughter, Myra, and immediately returned to the topic of the island and its amenities.

He spoke for several more minutes, during which Alexei nodded every few moments to pretend he was listening as he gazed around at the opulent decor, when he paused suddenly. Alexei could hear what sounded like faint footsteps on the stairs. There was a strange expression on Cyrus's face, and he darted to the door suddenly.

He returned a few moments later with a tall boy in tow, who looked to be about Alexei's age as well, and who he introduced as his stepson. The poor kid looked like he desperately wished to be anywhere else other than this room, so Alexei shook his proffered hand quickly and watched him retreat curiously.

"Sound good?"

Alexei realized suddenly that Cyrus was speaking to him. "Yeah, of course."

Alexei shook both Cyrus's and Myra's hands again before he scurried out of the room and up the stairs.

The second floor of the manor was a maze; Alexei wandered around aimlessly for several minutes before he even stumbled across the wing containing the bedrooms. He poked his head into several rooms - all thankfully unoccupied - before he spotted his luggage on the floor of one.

The room was the size of a small apartment. The bed was absolutely massive and covered in the softest sheets Alexei had ever touched. It faced a wall with a giant TV set directly into it, two towering mirrors reaching from floor to ceiling on both sides. A set of crystal-clear glass doors with golden handles led out to a balcony overlooking the sea.

Alexei poked his hand into the bathroom. The shower took up a ridiculous amount of space, enclosed by frosted glass and outlined with sleek black metal. A porcelain tub occupied the other wall; he made a mental note to make as much use of that as possible.

Alexei wandered back out to the bedroom and slid open the balcony doors. A cool, salty breeze ruffled his hair, and he inhaled the scent of the ocean deeply. He kicked off his shoes and flopped down onto the cloudlike mattress. Wriggling around, he sprawled out on the center of the bed and wrangled a pillow under his neck. He was exhausted, he realized suddenly. He vaguely remembered Cyrus mentioning a party to celebrate his arrival and hoped that it wouldn't be tonight. He wanted nothing more than to sleep for at least ten hours straight. With the ocean breeze blowing gently against his face, he tugged the blankets over his body and almost instantly fell asleep.