The uproarious din of a maddened crowd assaulted Helios’ every sense. The jeers and screams, calls and shouts filling the underground tunnels with a cacophony of sound. It was a miracle no one had found it out.
Only they had- that was why Helios was there right? As a soldier he should shut this down, stop Solterrans needlessly hurting themselves and each other? But he hadn’t been able to bring himself to do so the first time he’d found it. Nor the second, or the third. No, the ring of metal on metal, the thud of muscle on muscle and the hoarse growls of pain had sung to him a lullaby he could not ignore. There was comfort in the release of his pent up energy, in the familiar feeling of his body in battle. The nightmares and the pain abated those nights, as though they ran out with the blood spilt upon sandy floors. Sometimes he needed reminding that he could actually feel pain, that the rumours surrounding him (ones he’d cultivated himself) were not entirely true.
The rough-spun cloak concealing him from prying eyes dragged upon the dirty clay floor, collect dust and debris as he weaved among the crowds. These people would not recognise him- he was a soldier, a cog in the machine, but it didn’t stop him anyway. What would the King think if he saw him now, battling it out like a savage in the pits of an illicit club? What would the Triskevma think, their unofficial leader spending his nights spitting teeth and blood?
It didn’t matter, what mattered now was the stallion in front of him, teeth bared and ears back, eyes alight with bloodlust. The noise disappeared into nothing and Helios dropped his cloak to the floor, an audible flurry of feathers as his four wings rushed into being. He filled his end of the makeshift circle, the giant appendages spread wide as he rolled his muscular shoulders and prepared to meet his opponent.
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The tang of blood still tainted his nostrils, even as he cleaned the red stains from his nose and lips. The crowd were jeering the next fighters, their blood lust insatiable. Tonight had been rough, his savageness unchecked and fuelled by the images of his past, the nightmares that resurfaced each and every night. He unleashed the pent up energy that had begun to burn inside him, akin to a dark sun smouldering in the depths of his heart. No one paid him any mind, even as his wings lay open upon the dusty floor, caked in blood at the top and stained at the tips. His shoulders ached- hell his whole body ached. Helios’ opponent had given as good as he got, even if in the end it had been his body hitting the floor rather than Helios’.
The soldier was distracted for a moment, his gaze snagging on a pegasus of rich brown hues. He noticed the way the crowds parted for her, like rushing water around a resolute rock, and the paint like blood across her face- the winged mare was clearly here to fight. She was not so far from him and he called to her above the caterwauls and taunts flung into the ring. “It’s an easy crowd tonight,” he growled, the words hoarse. Yet his voice betrayed him, he doubted she was here for the crowd, just as he was not. He never did this for money or infamy, or even for the taste of blood on his tongue. No he did this in the hope that a full night’s sleep might be within his grasp. That the ghosts of his childhood might be satisfied with one night of barbarity enough to relinquish their ever hungering claws.
@Amaunet <3
