Let it burn ((Chris))

[Alexander Orion]

Up, down, up, down. Forty-seven. Up, down, Forty-eight. One for his mother. One for James, one for Lilly. One for the old man. It all came out in an excess of exercise. The anger. The love. The lust. All of it flowed out of him like the sweat did. Alexander’s chin reached the bar for the fiftieth time, and he dropped the five feet he had climbed to reach the bar and broke into a full sprint. Taking his shirt off in the process. One hundred meters passed. Then two hundred. His lungs were on fire, heaving in and out with great explosions of oxygen. Four hundred meters. Alexander’s leg’s felt like burning hot irons. Five hundred meters.

Alex flung himself to the ground. Sliding on his bare shoulder through the dirt. His body moved into the pushup position and he dropped twenty. Jumping to his feet, he slid his hand over his brow, swiping the sweat from it. Pain shot through his shoulder and down his arm. But there was time to wait. He shot out into a sprint again. His fourth of the day. The long island sound opened up in front of him, the sun rising out of it as Apollo made his daily trip. His feet caught a hold of the sand, making him push more effort into it. Two hundred meters to the water. Every foot was another battle. Every push away was a victory. His right foot reached the cold water first. Alex’s pain was numbed by the iciness of the sound. When he could run no more he swam. Four hundred meters out then four hundred meters back.

For the first time in hours. Alexander walked out of the water onto the warming up sand. He flung himself down and breathed deep and heaving breaths. He checked his shoulder as he rested. It had what Alex liked to call polk-a-dot cuts. Deep circles of injury that come from the rocks in the dirt. Alex winced a bit when he touched it. Most of the rocks had floated out in the salt water. But there was one still in there deep. He turned away from himself and faced the rising sun. It seemed to be forever unaffected by the actions taking place here on earth. How is it the Apollo keeps on his trail perfectly when there is an obvious turmoil taking place in his heart. Apollo and Apollo. His change wasn’t as bad as all the other gods, but it was still bad. A demigod civil war should be killing him.

Alex jumped to his feet and yelled out to the god of light. “HAVEN’T YOU HEARD APOLLO!!!” Alexander put his hands up like a gladiator, and spoke quietly, “There is a war going on.”

[Christopher Hart]

Chris silently watched from the concealment of the woods as Alexander Orion started killing himself. Well... he shouldn't say killing himself. More like aggressively beating his body into submission. He released a small breath of cool air from his nose, watched the steam of his breath rise in the morning air. He contemplated interrupting the outburst which was sure to come, but instead uncomfortably shifted his perch in the tree. Biting his lip, he remembered the Morpheus kid, what had happened... there was a lot of blood, he remembered. No one could identify the cause of death; by the time the Apollo medics got there, he was an unintelligible heap of meat, torn to pieces. There was a burial... he shook off the memory like he would a fly and sprung off the tree, landing on his feet and rolling to absorb the shock. He felt the sand around his bare toes and wiggled them. Then, he walked towards the distraught Eros son with conviction. They were a lot alike, Chris realized. Alex had quite the sense of humor, but perhaps not the same dashing looks Chris prided himself in. He looked more like a depressing cherub. The pain and hurt was usually evident in his eyes, the lone wolf bred in his expression.

As he approached the fellow Demigod as he stood in the shore, arms outstretched to the Sun God, Chris finally approached him. "A war is going on..." Chris clasped his friend's shoulder roughly, looking at him with a wily smirk planted on his face. Humor always followed Chris, and he considered it a gift he'd rather have than throw away. Despite being known as a thief, as a businessman... Chris had a way of cheering people up. And Chris was a popular guy. He got you what you needed, what you wanted. But after all that... he's just a vendor. He's not a friend. With Alex, he sort of hoped it was the opposite. He hoped this kid liked him not for his wares, but for what he could do. And Chris could do something a guy like Alex appreciated more than anything: Reach into him and take out all that sorrow, make him laugh, make him feel better. Chris intended to do just that, consider it his kind act for the day.

"A bit early for morning prayers, ain't it, mate? Come on, man, get your shirt and let's stroll the beach a bit. I've heard it's what sophisticated chaps do," Chris winked at the Son of Erotic Love and put his arm around him comfortingly. That was when the Child of the Thief knew he had Alexander Orion on the path to feeling better.