Everything is Permitted Apollo/Ahote

Today was a special day for the boy, going on a job that wasn’t an errand for once. Though, the major difference between today and all the other days he would go out for jobs on was that he didn’t have to do it in secret, as he had a fellow guildmate accompanying him. The bone chilling coldness he would feel in sneaking out or the fear that swelled in his chest and stomach didn’t seem to exist today, and although he didn’t have to sneak out, he habitually did it anyway. In the dusk of the day, Ahote sat patiently on the dry, wooden bench that would greet the train yet to come. Wrapped around his lean body was a black, wool jacket and gloves, black leather boots hugging his toes. Despite the finger freezing temperatures Mt. Hakobe invited, the boy would almost under-dress with so few layers, but living in this weather for so long gave you a certain bodily resilience.

Breathing quickly and quietly, he reached into his jacket pocket to pull out a crumpled piece of loose leaf paper, unfolding it to reread what notes he had scribbled down. ”River Village,” he whispered to himself, his voice mumbling such terrible, heartless words. For a moment, even if it were brief, he felt his heartbeat as his eyes read what they did.
”kill by any means necessary. . .” he finished. He would not move a muscle, frozen in his seat. But ashen face would light up to its usual redness in the cold as the train unsuspectingly rolled on the tracks in front of him, the station’s bells ringing their sharp ring and the vehicle coming to a quick stop. His head jerked up before stuffing the paper back into his pocket and rushing to the door and taking his usual seat in the very front. Looking back, only two others seemed to be boarding the train, one being an older lady in slumber and the other being a middle aged man reading the newspaper. The train wheels rolled again as he set out for River Village.

The train would stop, and Ahote would make way to the entrance of the village. A man would lean against a wall idly, not seeming to be doing anything of importance by himself. Instantly, Ahote assumed that this was his guildmate. It was strange, meeting a guildmate like this as opposed to the usual circumstances, being pressured and questioned in the chilly, stone fortress. Excited but cautious, the raven haired boy proceeded forward. He stopped once a few feet away from the man and simpered, ”You’re here for a job, aren’t you? Are you, uh. . . from the same guild?” he questioned eagerly, silver, frosty puffs of air exiting his nose and mouth as he spoke.

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Ahote was quick to identify the man's discomfort and irritation. It was a patronizing feeling he was far too familiar with. Like always, the raven haired youth would ignore the comments and what contempt they harbored and would continue with the much older man.

He introduced himself as Apollo, a seemingly capable man who felt especially perturbed in being paired with a much younger, less experienced boy. Ahote sighed and frowned, crossing his arms over his chest, "Okay, well, first, don't talk to me like that. Really, we're on the same job, aren't we? Call me Ahote." he grumbled, and although he believed himself not to mind this sort of behavior, the irritation in his voice was clear. "A-Anyway. . ." he began, extending his right arm out with an open hand in greeting, "I'm not really experienced with this sort of stuff. This is actually. . . kind of my first job with these sort of requirements. So, please take care of me!" he briefly dipped his head in respect. Outside of Basilisk Fang, beyond Mt. Hakobe, away from the icy fortress, it was simply man against man. There were no ranks. In that moment, if only briefly, he felt a great and true admiration for the mage before him.

Ahote would raise his head, messy raven threads throwing back with him with a strong smile stretching from ear to ear and a twinkle in his topaz hues, "So, what now?
I've never been this far out in Fiore, either, so you'll have to guide me there as well! I won't be a burden, I promise. I never break my promises, either. You can trust me. . .!" he would insist, the smile that cracked his face hadn't been seen since a much earlier boyhood, when times were innocent.
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Ahote was quick to retreat his hand back to his side when Apollo rejected the handshake. The boy could only suspect that his senior had an issue with physical contact on such a level, whether that be for sanitary reasons or perhaps the idea that they were not on the same level for those types of gestures. Whatever the reason was, the raven haired youth decided not the think on it or question it further.

Ahote would nod when his senior partner explained him the conditions of his guidance. It wasn't any sort of guidance he was unfamiliar with, being a fast learner and easily becoming proficient in whatever activity he was practicing. The youth smiled as he trailed behind the moving Apollo, "Alright. So, do we split up or do we scout it together? Are we just looking around?" he questioned. Although it was easier to split up and scout different parts of the village, it was an idea optimal only for experienced mages. The boy figured that if he were to part ways with Apollo for scouting, he'd end up getting lost himself, or worse.

In the midst of those thoughts came the once shunned and lingering thoughts of death that he so feared, or so he thought. When the details of the job paper flashed in his mind, following that image came the torn and bloodied face of Angus and all the emotions he felt in murdering him. He remembered locking himself up in his room for days, wallowing in his own anxieties and disbelief, the coppery smell of Angus's and his own blood still on his fingertips. Despite his efforts, no matter how much he scrubbed his hands of the evidence, his topaz hues still saw the ghost of crimson droplets splattered on his hands. He scrubbed and scrubbed until blood of his own began to fall from his fingertips. It hurt.

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Ahote would softly frown when the Apollo's words would slip out of his mouth and into the boy's ears. "Hey, I told you not to call me that, you know. I'm no kid. I'm a young man." the youth retorted proudly. Although the condescending nature of people speaking to him, especially in regards to his father, was not abnormal, being told he was a kid felt much different than being treated like one. It was a strange relationship between him and the word "kid." But Ahote would qucikly return to his state of friendliness and wonder soon after his correction.

From the looks of it, Apollo seemed like a fairly competent wizard, judging by his behavior and his demeanor in general, but Ahote had been careful not to overestimate him, not that he was in any position to hold him to any standard in the first place, being a so-so, mediocre wizard himself, if you could even call him that. The boy had regarded himself as a full time boy and a part time wizard, but the part time comes spontaneously, beyond his control. The youth was quick to realize and admit to himself that he had been quite useless.

Apollo would query about Ahote's magic, causing the boy to explore thoughts he had avoided so subconsciously beforehand, looking down at the dirt path in thought, "If I had to describe it, it'd be fire magic, I think? To be honest with you, mister Apollo, I'm not experienced with my own magic myself. . . it's actually quite self destructive. . ." he explained with a weary voice, memories of past, painful events flashing in his mind, a sacrifice being his left arm, now metal and artificial. "But yours sounds very useful too, mister Apollo." he smiled.

The pair would then arrive at a rather magnificent building, a construction with presence among the rest. It was an intimidating sight, but his senior wizard's voice soothed the younger one greatly, ears listening attentively and eyes fixed on the much taller man. Ahote pinched his chin between his right's index finger and thumb, "Option B seems like the most logical option available.
With my mediocre skills and the quantity of force we'll have to face. . . it seems like the option with the least amount of stress and struggle, don't you think?" he suggested with a rather solemn expression, though quickly returning to an anxious one, "That. . . that is if you are okay with that. . . of course."

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Ahote stared at the pondering Apollo, who seemed to make sure that he knew that he had been an inconvenience to him, or even a nuisance. Even so, Apollo had either been thinking silly things or finding fun in their situation judging by his quizzical grins and giggles. The man had proven to be quite strange, and got lost in his own head far too often. It was a unique experience to be in his company and to observe him in the act.

Eyes flickering between the older Apollo and nearby structures, Ahote had found himself admiring the village buildings and the people who wandered the streets at such hours. It had been almost otherworldly for the boy, never feeling quite so close to his hometown in spirit. The innocent laughter of children, their mothers who would tug them forward, the merchants with notable determination to sell their seafood and freshly picked peaches. His topaz hues flickered with a deeper awe as he began to notice even more things as the pair would stride along. Rune Knights drinking together, their cheeks flushed with a tipsy red, while some had been actively patrolling the streets with a severe lack of solemnity. Old couples kissing, people hanging their clothes out to dry, it had been a homely town, and suddenly Ahote's chest felt heavy in seeing such a pure happiness.

Before Ahote had knew it, he and Apollo were near the outskirts of the village once more, and the atmosphere returned to that of terrorists once again. He'd pull the boy aside with a face that said "I've collected my thoughts now," or so he thought. Quickly, his senior would brief over his seemingly thorough plan. Meanwhile, the youth's face has become that of ash in the mention of what he would consider extreme for his experience. Turning in? Potential danger? Fairy Tail? Even if the seemingly absurd plan were to work, it had been far too much for him to memorize so quickly.

Ahote frowned with a scrunched, anxious countenance and raised his hand as if he were being called on in classroom, "Well, first off, I doubt I'm a well known Basilisk Fang member. I've been tucked inside the fortress most of my life, and I've only been involved with the guild just recently. It would be absurd for my name and face to be known, even with the petty crimes I've done already," he continued diligently, "So why don't we just say I stole from someone, and you witnessed it firsthand? Or perhaps some sort of assault? Harassment? Any crime that wouldn't raise too much alarm or get me in too much trouble would be fine, right?" his face lit up, a soft smile returning to his lips, "I think we should at least try sneaking in at first. If we get caught, we get caught, yeah? We'd end up fighting with them in either scenario, anyway. I say it's worth a shot. . . if that's okay with you, that is. . ." he finished, twiddling his thumbs nervously.

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Ahote lips perked up into a smile as the prideful and cheeky Apollo sauntered off. It hadn't been more obvious that he didn't enjoy the youth or his antics, and being underestimated was far too common for Ahote. Still, behind the practiced smile was swelling infuriation and indignancy deep within his gut. His chest became heavy and heart sank like a weight had been placed on it. When will this man learn to show some respect? Colleagues lightyears apart in age and experience, but colleagues no less, or so Ahote thought. From the young eyes of the raven-haired youth, Apollo's own pride and dissatisfaction with him was unbearably similar to that of his father's. Ahote brooded silently.  

Ahote's smile softened into a weak simper, lips only slightly curving up. His topaz hues stared blankly at the back of his senior and the ground in which he sauntered as he stood up and trailed behind him. Thought had clustered his mind. Just how were they to sneak in? It was certainly a plan, a foolproof one for any person who had an ounce of experience in any crime. However, on such a large scale? Ahote figured it had been too late and too accepted to propose any sort of alternatives to the determined Apollo now, and pondered the idea to himself in silence.

The pair would approach the building. Rune Knights dawdled about the premises with drinks in their hands and mouths full of chatter. It had only been two knights who stood idly by the large doors, large polearms in one hand. They said nothing and spoke to no one, it seemed, and seemed to have nearly undivided attention. Ahote sighed. Clearly, things weren't discussed as well as they should have, Ahote thought to himself. To some degree, the youth had partially blamed Apollo. If he weren't so impatient, things might've been to go a proper pace. Or, so Ahote thought. Even so, he couldn't work up the nerve to confront his senior about the potential issue now and clustered his mind with these concerns with himself.

Ahote stroked the tip of his chin with his fleshed digits, feeling its smooth edges and small, unnoticeable hairs pluck through the skin. But again, what of their entrance? Would it be secure enough to be an exit, too? The raven youth pushed his shock of raven hair to his ears and reached to grab Apollo's wrist, "Mister Apollo, I changed my mind." he began, slowing his pace, "How about we do a little combination of the plans? I can distract some of the knights, and you can sneak in? How about it? I think it's a bit safer than my first plan, don't you think?" Ahote released Apollo's wrist from his metal grip. He knew his sudden change of thought would certainly come off as irritating to Apollo, if not putting him up as an obnoxious child. Truly, he did not mean to annoy his senior, but as he took a step closer to the building, he felt his anxieties swell.

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Rumor had it that a Major of the Rune Knights was visiting these parts. After her recent ordeal with the monsters and mages in Peace Village, Lucie had moved to the closest village for refuge-- that being River Village. It was a homey little place, with lots of water around as per its namesake. The village for the most part was built to compliment the landscape, with a good part of the village being on the water.

But who knew she would be so lucky with what was to come? Not only had the rumors mentioned a high ranking Rune Knight in the village, but a letter floating around the shifty network of ne’er-do-wells confirmed it, and many wanted him dead, especially the letter-writer. However, not everyone had the power to carry out such a task.

This was a perfect opportunity to even the scoreboard a little, especially with how the magic council had been behaving lately. What did they want here in River Village? Why was a Rune Knight here? There were many unanswered questions, but Lucie had nothing better to do while she waited for the onslaught of monsters to eventually die down elsewhere. She was sure the mage she had confronted also was informing the authorities of her appearance and what she had done. Hopefully, they would not come to see this form as another threat to be tracked down, with her new face being plastered on a wanted poster. Her weakened form was all they knew as the great Coming Storm, but they had yet to recognize her as a young adult, and not a silver-haired child.

Slipping silently through the village, Lucie made her way to where the Rune Knight was said to be taking refuge. She had sent her companion lowland firedrake, nicknamed ‘Blue’, back to the realm of fire for his own safety. His primary azure, fluffy pelt stood out like a sore thumb, and would undoubtedly be recognized after the shenanigans in Peace Village. Once more, she was alone. She moved like a ghost, walking the streets invisibly for now.

However, it did not take long for the raven-haired girl to spot a familiar face from afar, talking to a brunette boy. The Daemon narrowed her crimson eyes at the familiar one and his new guildmark, recalling him from another stage of her life. So, after he left Fairy Tail, this was where he went… hopping from one tight knit group unfairly forced to the label of dark guild, to a guild that was actually known for its criminals?

Clenching her fists in frustration, Lucie would attempt to place a crack in the space as soon as the brunette let go of Apollo’s hand. Apollo would disappear from the other Basilisk Fang member’s eyes, and be completely unable to be seen, felt, or sensed. What happened to him? Find out next time, on Dragon Ball Z….

If Lucie had her way, he would disappear and land in the realm of fire, trapped there along with her essence. Later on, she could make a meal out of his soul, or simply feed him to the firedrakes or behemoths. Her second option was to simply leave him alone, invisible and undetected in the physical realm. However, it seemed to be a trend that Lucie did not always get her way, so she did not focus too much on what to do with the Fairy Tail traitor.

The remaining guild member would not be left alone, however. She had overheard the tail end of their conversation, and assumed that they shared the same goal-- to be rid of the Rune Knight major in River Village. She waited a few seconds after Nadarr’s disappearance, and finally made her own presence known to the senses and eyes.

“It seems something happened to your friend,” Lucie stated calmly and evenly as she walked towards the brunette boy, her face not portraying much emotion. “It’s a shame, but I do not think you should halt your mission for him. Would you mind if I was your partner for assassinating this Rune Knight?”

The air became stuffy and filled Ahote's nostrils with a sweet, pungent zing that was usually followed with storms. His eyes flickered upward, where the topaz hues would gander the gathering tar-black clouds that slowly consumed the starless atmosphere. He couldn't help but feel as if it were some sign of bad luck, or misfortune.

Ahote's eyes would descend back to Apollo, but much to his surprise, the remarkably confident man had simply vanished without a trace of his whereabouts. Baffled, only an expression of raw astonishment plastered his face as the raven-haired boy stood there, speechless. Not even the breeze of his swift movements brushed against his cheeks or his mild smell of leather tickled his nose, and yet Ahote remained completely, utterly oblivious to this freak event. Even so, he began to wonder whether this incident was really no incident at all, but an upfront example of his expertise and skillset. Mildly impressed, the bewildered Ahote pinched the ends of his threads broodingly. What was he to do now that he was alone? Or so he thought.

Abruptly, a soft voice like silver interrupted his thoughts, his complexion becoming like ash and gut sinking so deeply he felt as if he were about the vomit. Briskly, he turned to face the stranger. Ahote's brows scrunched together sharply, like his face would twist into something far more leering if the hairs inched any closer together, as he beheld what would seem to be a woman. Her hair was the color of his, if not darker, and her eyes a beautiful crimson. It was almost as if her hues were no more than crystals filled with a deep and rich blood, still warm from the fleshy body. Her face was small and jaw was sharp and curved, having a complexion, again, similar to his. Despite her abrupt appearance, her deadpan countenance lifted his stomach just a little.

"Yes. . ." Ahote began quietly, "it would seem so." His complexion continued to reflect the color of a ghost in the realization of this woman's presence. How did she discover them so quickly, and for how long was she listening to their briefings? Ahote couldn't help but wonder these things, and further pondered whether this was simply a negligent mistake or truly the works of a mysterious woman. Even so, with Apollo vanishing and Major so close, the raven-haired youth couldn't help compromise with the mysterious woman. Wearily, he crossed his arms over his chest, anxiously glancing about their surroundings in hopes the eye of a Rune Knight did not catch sight of them, "I wouldn't necessarily mind it, but you have me in a position where I can't really refuse, don't you?" a small smile cracked his lips, tickled by the confusion of the situation.

From what Ahote could tell, any form of rejection of her offer would be far more dangerous than complying with it. Who's to say she wouldn't turn them into the Rune Knights just moments before they broke in? That is, if he didn't flee before that became a possibility. But it was the principal of it that mattered! The principal!

Ahote briefly dipped his head with a now lopsided smile, his unkempt locks dangling messily over his head, "Ahote. A pleasure. . . I suppose?" he chuckled, though he found no honest humor in the situation. His gut still sank deep within him and his chest would pound in rhythm to his unusual heartbeats, though there was a faint sense of security in having company in such a risky and foreign field of work. That being said, a face unfamiliar to him or his guild was a face he welcomed with shaky hands and a pounding heart.

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His face looked like he had just seen a ghost… which was not too far from the truth. After all, what was Lucie other than just an astral projection? Her real ‘body’ and soul were trapped away in the realm of fire, after all, anchored there safely. She was unable to escape, even if she wanted to, but that did not mean she could not get around. By pushing her consciousness into other dimensions, Lucie could move through the planes just enough to exist elsewhere.

“You can refuse,” Lucie answered. “But you won’t. Our goal is the same, after all.”
Blunt and to the point, the Daemon continued on, her expression relaxed, but without smile or other emotion. It could not be described quite as deadpan-- she simply had no emotion to project onto her physical form. In her mind, what she stated was fact-- was there any reason to be particularly happy, sad, or angry about it?

Here came the pleasantries, which were always to be expected in this world. Introductions tired the Daemon, who was used to never seeing people again after they parted ways for the first time. However, Chaoris had naturally overturned that, being one of the first people Lucie had encountered again after their first meeting. Would this boy be the same?

“Call me Lucie,” the raven-haired spirit said, partly curious as to if the criminal guild member would know her name or not. The Coming Storms were recognized in the world of legals and innocents, but were they really that glorified in the world of evil mages and dark guilds? Lucie highly doubted it. Just being on a wanted poster did not make you anything special. “Regarding your first plan with Apollo, I can still distract the Rune Knights if you like, and then join you in fighting.”

With her words, Lucie would slowly begin to turn towards the direction of their quarry, not wanting to wait too long. She was an odd one, who did not understand how to properly engage in conversation. Social skills were something she had never been taught, and talking to other people was something new to her, especially after moons of mutism. She showed no caution when it came to mentioning Apollo’s name. She knew it, alright, and she only now knew him as a traitor.

With heightened senses, Lucie could smell the stench of the dogs of the Magic Council. They were not expecting anything, as the guards were holding drinks and idly chatting with one another. Crimson eyes narrowing at their drink glasses, the Daemon would once again activate her materialization powers within fifty meters. In each glass, a small sizzling coal would appear and slowly begin to grow. This grabbed the attention of the Rune Knights right away. In shock at the fire being in alcohol, many dropped their glasses, only to see the coal instantly vanish the instant they did so. Other, braver, knights would keep a whole of their drinks and stare down suspiciously at the coal. As it continued to grow, reaching the rim of their glasses, the coal would suddenly explode.

The explosion was small, but powerful, fitting for magic of her present rank. Some knights with great speed would throw the glass before it could explode on them. Others were not so lucky. The tiny explosions all around would sometimes take the hands or faces of ones either holding the glasses, or looking too closely at the coals.

“Go, now, Ahote!” Lucie silently would urge the Basilisk Fang member to make use of the diversion, and rush for their target-- the Major of the Rune Knights.

The raven-haired woman was not only strikingly pretty, but quite blunt and straightforward. Should she be honest, the combination of those traits would only breed chaos in conversation. Or, according to Ahote. Regardless, the woman's features were stunning. It looked as if there was not a scratch nor scar to taint her complexion. If anything, it only tempted him to touch her with only a feeling of admiration of her psychical aesthetic. But on second thought, he figured that would only be the actions of a pervert? Ahote rolled his lips into his mouth at the sour thought of embarrassment rush over him like water in a shower. He resolved that it was best to watch in silence.

To a certain extent, the growing boy couldn't help feel at ease with her bluntness. It was the type of conversing he indulged in most times. Though, from his experiences at least, it was never taken well or appreciated for that matter. Even though he was quite vocal about his thoughts, no matter how dreadful or unpleasant they may be, the responses were often bitter and physical at times. The pale boy was never one to sugarcoat his truths and frequently pondered if it were something he would have to learn to filter from time to time. The thought filled him with a great guilt and a mild proudness, even if they were short lived.

The woman then revealed herself to be named Lucie. Certainly not a name Ahote pictured she would have. If anything, it seemed like a name you'd give to a young blonde girl from a well-off family who lived in a humungous mansion with a beautiful view of an amazing country. Or, so he'd see in the picture books he'd use to read. Regardless, the mysterious Lucie did not seem to fit her relatively innocent name, far from the intimidating demeanor she was giving off now.

Ahote could only give a quick and weak nod to Lucie's suggestion, although ended up becoming orders of sorts as they made way to the structure. There wasn't much of a window to consult or disagree with what she said if there was anything to consult or disagree with in the first place.

The pair advanced forward at a steady speed, Ahote only a few paces behind the seemingly stoic Lucie. He peeked over her shoulders, finding puzzled Rune Knights gazing deeply into their full glasses, some tossing theirs onto the dirt ground and others continuing to gape suspiciously. Unfortunately, none of them could observe long enough to anticipate what came next. Abruptly, whatever they had all been staring at so determinedly had combusted with a raucous pop, a barrage of glasses falling to the ground and an assembly of body parts with it.

Quickly, the Rune Knights broke into a collective clamourous holler and scattered about bewilderedly, panicked. Ahote would've wanted to watch the bloody mess unfold, but the piercing voice of Lucie had only thrust his legs forward. He darted through the distracted guards like a fish in a lake after a pebble has been tossed into it unexpectedly, advancing so deeply into the fray that the Major had been in clear view.

The Major and his frantic underlings were quick to understand what was going on but far too slow to react to it. Ahote perched himself on a surface high up, his forehead dressed in this coat of sweat. He closed one eye, a pair of fingers just in front of his chest, "Don't move, now. . ." he mumbled to himself, briskly snapping his fingers. As the sharp sound of flesh rubbing against one another filled the area, one large explosion of blue flames erupted just beneath the talking trio of Rune Knights. Two had been tossed far from their original spot, unconscious and crimson from the flames.

The Major, who had only dropped to his knee, had patches of skin missing here and there. He began to stand up, reaching to draw his blade, briskly raising his head. Unfortunately, what awaited him just ahead was no sense of security. His head would rise into the glowing palm of Ahote, who would latch it onto his face with an elevating brightness.

The boy's face twisted intensely into something far more excitable, a lopsided smile of sorts. A beam of flames burst from his palm, almost akin to a flamethrower. He felt the Major's flesh roast and melt between his fingertips, and as gross as it felt, it was an eternally satisfying accomplishment. The beam would cease and the corpse of the Major dropped with flesh like coal.

Ahote made way back out to the area he was originally in with no Lucie or alive guards to be seen. Bodies were scattered about and only a handful of people were there, watching in horror. The sweet smell of an approaching storm remained, and Ahote sighed, "Well done, I suppose."

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Word Count Completed