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Yearbook Superlatives: Most Likely To End Up In Jail Gwaine (requested by merlinsprat​)

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It had been a month since the Hunt had struck the Isle, and Manus Doalty still hadn’t managed to shake off the feeling that something was terribly wrong.

Dionysus lost him when the forest began to burn. Frantic Irish spat like sparks and the gallop of hooves had barely even reached the old god’s ears before he realised that the centaur had all but disappeared from the safety of the villa he had dragged him to into smoke and the scent of bonfires.

A month later, and he still wondered about charred ruins, blackened trunks and branches, kicking up ash and hopelessly calling out for those who may have been buried beneath fallen trees or been victim to heavy pollution, tar-like smoke.

He didn’t know why he asked. But Manus always played the faulty hero, always too late, going in the same circles, again, and again. Maybe he hoped that one day he would be able to save someone.

Instead, he just wound up being broken, time after time after time. Nothing more than another victim.

“Lose something, sweetie?” The shadows hissed, oily black and congealing on the remnants of the forest floor, the ash that was once fauna. Manus started, tentatively stepping back with a hand clasped on the hilt of his sword, face filthy with dirt and charcoal, sticking in the creases around exhausted eyes that defiantly flashed with instinctual fear as he looked around the dark wreckage. “…You look surprised.”

“T’at would be because I am.” Manus growled at the silken voice that spilled through the air, glancing through the space and trying to place the bodiless words—matching them to a white face that stepped out from around the scorched remains of a large oak, smirk on his lips and painted nails drumming on the bark.

“I can’t imagine why. Shady guy appears in a forest out of nowhere in the middle of the night—“

“Well, ‘tis peculiar…” Manus sneered, grip tight on his sword now as he began to back away. Blue eyes glanced from the chipped hooves, examining the scars on the Irishman’s shoulder, judgement lined with kohl.

“Mm. About as peculiar as a lonely centaur.” Diego smoothly countered, folding his arms as wisps of onyx smoke furled around him. But there was no flame – except the cobalt that burnt brightly in the pale man’s irises. “Don’t you things usually stay in herds?” Manus felt his chest tighten, as if the new arrival had looped the thick air around his ribs – and pulled. The d’jinn’s condescending words struck chords in him like a rock down an empty cavern. Lonely. Things.

That’s what he was. Nor animal or man, with no family, no child or wife. Such a lonely thing.

“Safety in numbers and all that.” Passion and anger resonated in Manus’ heart, a kick-start defence, sword gone from his side and now pointed directly underneath Diego’s chin. Whilst Manus was threatening in height and aggression, Diego was calm, and all he did was lift his head, exposing his throat. He dared him.

Go on, he thought, it’d be amusing to see you try.

“Careful now.” Diego crooned as Manus did not move, relentless and full of grief. Sorrow was a dangerous thing in a heart as wild as a centaur’s.

But Manus was no longer wild, and Diego saw that in his eyes. This horse had been broken.

Coolly moving the blade aside with a set of digits, the dealer spoke again, cigarette smoke curling around the weapon and encircling Manus’ wrists.

“We don’t want anyone getting hurt, do we?” A dark brow was lifted, the d’jinn’s smirk slowly fading. “At least, not yet.”

“What do ye want?” Manus, still not lowering his guard, had his sword still raised, poised to swing at Diego if he so much as moved a finger.

“Well, I thought that was obvious, sweetie.” But Diego didn’t need to move to make the smoke that had filled the air toxic, full of noxious fumes that plagued the centaur’s senses, fogging up his eyes and clouding his mind. Almost immediately, Manus faltered, the sword falling from his hands as he swayed and staggered, legs bowing and shaking as the stubborn man refused to fall just yet. “See, there’s a very special someone I know who would just love a pony for his Christmas.” The sarcasm seeped through Diego like poison and hissed at Manus mockingly. “I figured I’d get ahead, you know. Before the big seasonal rush.”

“I swear t’t’e gods—”

“Oh, cool it, ponyboy. It doesn’t matter what I want. In all honesty it doesn’t matter if you know at all.” Diego drawled, the smoke getting thicker. “Though I’m sure the setup will be familiar once we get there.”

“Get where?” Manus muttered furiously, teeth grit as his body shook, fighting the exhaustion that swiftly assaulted every muscle.

“Well, those battle scars didn’t come from no war, now, did they, sweetie?” Diego smiled widely, white teeth flashing briefly in the haze. Manus squinted, feeling his skin shiver, lingering in the marks that lined his skin…

Until it all can racing back to him in a sickening wave, knocking him to his knees as he shook his head, feeling nauseous and dizzy.

“…No… No, I’m done wit’ t’at fightin’. I ain’t goin’ back t’any ring—”

“You don’t have much a choice, do you?” Diego cut him off, stepping forward as Manus all but crumpled to the ground. “It’s not exactly like you’re in the, ah... Position to make decisions.”

“Ye’ll be makin’ some powerful enemies, takin’ me.” Manus gasped, remembering Dionysus, Nicholas…

Crysta, if he hadn’t let her down completely in this madness.

“Who’s to say we’re not as powerful, Manus?” Diego replied, smug as he lowered to a crouch, the heavy horse’s ribs struggling to rise, falling with a tremble and a shudder as Manus steadily lost the battle for consciousness. He prayed to his mother – the nymph who was swallowed up by her own forest as belief faded, faith ran into the ground. He prayed to his friends. He prayed to Maire.

He prayed to anyone who’d listen.

“You ignorantly think we’re in a time of peace, but this is a playground for gods like them, and monsters like us.” An ivory hand blurred in and out of hazy sight as the d’jinn gestured to them both. Manus had lost track of whether it was the smoke that made it hard to see, or if even his vision had started to fail him. “And you’re thinking it’s going to be nasty, but, sweetie… it’s always been this way. Wars, fights, battles, all in the name of some… deity.” The sneer of distaste distorted the d’jinn’s features into something bitter and twisted, an expression of contempt as the world faded to black. Black like the forest after the fire, black like tar and oil. “…There are no winners, in this, Manus.”

Black like Diego’s fingers.

“And the sooner you realise that…”

Black like the void that swallowed him whole…

“The better your chances are.”

And spat him back out into the ring, nothing more but another victim.

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oh my fucking god my whole body

r e a l l y hurts so

I'm just going to curl up in a ball and

idk

idk what

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clippity cloppers

...Anon, be 'ones' wit' me now. 'ave y'been eatin' any funny-lookin' mushrooms?

:|

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NOU MANUS SHE'LL TAKE YER LEGS AND VOICE YE POOR UNFERTUNATE SEWWWLLL

...

-keeps walking.-

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Can you cook at all?

Eh. -makes a so-so motion with his hand.- Bits'n'pieces.

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Don't be a mule.

Bv

Yer a mule.

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aLSO LOL REYNE

you've returned just in time for The Wild Hunt

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What are your favorite sounds?

Cracklin' o' dry firewood at a campfire. Dripping water in caves. Streams an' waterfalls in narrow valleys.

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Apples or carrots?

Apples. But bot' are lovely, if t'ey're grown right.

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/rains flowers on

... -scoops up a few and puts them in the same pocket as the sugarcubes.-

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There's a wee lost centaur nearby, too.

Even if we are alone, hardly are we ever truly lost.

...But I'll keep an eye out.