((Time for another sick monologue. I don't know. But monologues are cool. Right, master assassin
Ooglie101 ?))
Despite his wish to participate in the conversation around him, his injuries coupled with the exertion on the trip here forced Ross to sleep. Normally he would
drift off to sleep, but this time was much more direct. Much more focused. Much more intense. Instead of seeing the oh so familiar endless ocean, Ross found himself in the middle of a desert. Or at least, it looked like a desert. The hot sun beat down mercilessly on the golden sands and the heated wind blew casually on the dunes. But Ross felt nothing. He should be boiling his blood out in this, but he wasn't. He was completely baffled, that is, until a searing pain in his hand enlightened him. The orb. e could use fire now.
Well, sort of. He remembered how he had challenged Poseidon and used fire in the endless ocean, so surely he'd be able to use water here, right? But should he? I mean, he hasn't even met the aspect yet and he's already planning to fuck up his shit? Coming to a decision, he endures the pain and, with a sense of deja vu, he starts walking. Why does everything have to involve walking?
He was unable to pinpoint the moment when, but the heat was starting to get to him. He stripped off his sweat stained robe, hoping it would help. It didn't really, but when he looked down he saw that his burns were fading, being replaced by swirling scars wrapping around his entire body. His robes would cover most of it, but what about his hands and neck? People would look at him as they would some tattooed freak. Well, not like he wasn't a freak already. I mean, what other Guardian can use two elements? Hell, what other Guardian would rebel against their own aspect in the first place?
"Hmm. I haven't had someone here since Pyro died. What are you doing here?"
A disembodied voice emanated from everywhere and nowhere simultaneously, much as Poseidon's had. Ross felt a pang of guilt for leaving his aspect behind. Instinctively, he reached for his back, the place where his trident had hung since he got it, but it was nowhere to be seen, or rather, felt. A bit apprehensive, Ross responded, trembling slightly, "I...I don't really know what I'm doing here....Or how I got here."
There was a long pause, as if the voice was complementing something. Finally, it spoke again. "As for how you got here, I've no idea. As for what you're doing here. You're the Guardian of Fire now. Remember when you were thrown into an ocean, or whatever whatshisface has over there, and met Poseidick himself for the first time? Yeah, it's like that. But I don't like you."
Ross was surprised, and more than a little offended. "What do you mean you don't like me? You don't even know me!"
"Oh, believe me, I know more about you than I ever wanted to, Ross. Pyro always went on and on about you. About how you were the only person that ever talked to him. About how you were the only person he ever wanted to be around. About how despite having conflicting powers, you two were still great friends....Some might even argue..More? than friends? I swear, if the little bastard wasn't my Guardian, I would've gladly offed him myself."
Ross couldn't mask his anger. He could feel his blood literally boiling, and he wanted to scream. But he had no words. He wanted to lash out. But he couldn't move. He was being...held in place? His scars were constricting him, stopping him from doing, well, anything. It was not until then that the aspect finally surfaced. Ross could see it, but couldn't look at it. It was as if he was staring at the sun: It was there in his vision, but he couldn't see it. "So what do you hope to accomplish here, Guardian?"
"I don't even know how I got here. But I suppose while I'm here, you could tell me the origin of my fire."
The aspect of fire simply brushed off the request. "You'll learn on your own soon enough. Now get the hell out of my domain!" As it shouted, the constricting markings tightened, as if trying to repel him from the plane.
Ross woke with a start exactly where he'd been: Leaning against a rock, holding his orb. The first thing he did was roll up his sleeves to investigate his burns. They were, indeed, turned to scars...They looked as if they simply sunken directly into his skin. Well, at least they didn't hurt anymore....
