(no subject)

[thewestwind]

There is a breeze rustling the trees around the bar. Nothing alarming, just a soft summer breeze.

It's Sinric who suggests they go for a walk. Or at least get some air. He's been worried about Ganymede, about his pensive quiet.

Comments

[the_cupbearer]

"You'd like Los Angeles for that," Ganymede replies, shaking his head.

"It's all right. Just the breeze, nothing more," he says stubbornly.

[thewidewideworld]

"I love New Orleans. So much passion and life." Sinric smiles. "Is Los Angeles similar?"

He gives Ganymede a squeeze. "Just so."

[the_cupbearer]

Ganymede smiles at the mention and memories he has of New Orleans. "Los Angeles is much like that, yes. Only larger. It's...sprawling and huge, so many little cities crammed together. They all fit in one way or another."

He loves the vibrancy and the stubbornness to keep their own tiny identities in the face of that massive urban place.

[thewidewideworld]

"Sounds like a place I could enjoy very much." Sinric smiles. "As long as I can find my place in one of those cities."

The breeze flits around them again, almost like a voice whispering in his ear. "Pretty."

[the_cupbearer]

Ganymede squeezes Sinric's hand from where their fingers are twined together, trying to pay no mind to the caress of the wind, until he hears the whisper in his ear.

"Zephyrus," he says, loud enough for the being to hear. "Come out where we can see you if you wish to speak."

[thewestwind]

Zephyrus appears before them, all hard edges and dangerous grin. "Who is the pretty mortal? A sacrifice you hope to distract me with?"

[the_cupbearer]

"I am not playing your silly games, Zephyrus," Ganymede says, hard-edged himself as his smile and pleasant demeanor vanish. His fingers slip from Sinric's hand as he steps forward.

"What do you want?"

[thewestwind]

"I want you on your knees." Zephyrus growls, stepping closer. Even in human form, he's a good head and a half taller than Ganymede and makes the most of it to loom. "Where you belong, whore."

Sinric's eyes glow bright gold as he steps up, magic crackling at his fingertips. "You will leave now."

[the_cupbearer]

"I refused you once before," Ganymede says evenly. "I will not give you what you want."

[thewestwind]

"You will." Zephyrus shrugs, utterly unfazed by either Sinric or Ganymede's refusal. "I have Eros' golden arrows. One scratch and you'll have no choice but to love me. And do anything I tell you."

[the_cupbearer]

"When did you steal those?" he asks, backing up half a step and attempting to hide how much that idea shakes him. Ganymede has seen the arrows work; he knows very well that Zephyrus is not lying about what they will do.

[thewestwind]

"Does it matter?" He comes forward, matching Ganymede step for step. "I have one. And I will use it. So you can give me what I want freely, or can fall at my feet and beg me to take you."

Sinric steps between them, eyes on fire. "Leave us now. You're not welcome here."

Zephyrus looks at Sinric like he's nothing but a fly, buzzing at the god's feet. With a careless backhand slap, he sends Sinric flying back.

[the_cupbearer]

Ganymede turns back to Sinric to make sure he's alright, not bleeding from the slap: he knows how painful they can be.

"You already know my answer, Zephyrus," he says, unwilling to bend.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric groans and pulls himself to his knees. His lip is split and his cheek is red but his eyes are alert and bright. He crackles with gold light as he gets to his feet. "You will not touch either us again."

[the_cupbearer]

Though the gold light--so stomach-turningly similar to the golden blood that flows through the gods' veins--is not Ganymede's favorite thing to see on Sinric, he is glad his friend isn't hurt worse.

He isn't very sure those words will have much of an effect on Zephyrus, though, if they have one at all. "Zephyrus, I cannot give you shat you want."

[thewestwind]

Zephyrus cocks his head at Sinric, unimpressed by the golden light.

He turns back to Ganymede. "I will kill the flaxen whore."

[the_cupbearer]

"Touch him and I will murder you myself," Ganymede says, haughty, princely, and cold-voiced.

"I will carve those precious fucking wings off and burn them in front of you while I do." It takes, it should be said, an awful lot to send Ganymede into the frame of mind necessary to make such threats, but even for a mortal the way he says them makes it clear that he means every word. Zeus chose him, after all; he has more than only his beauty.

[thewestwind]

The threat only makes Zephyrus laugh. "Feisty little whore. I like it." He reaches a hand out absently and pulls the air from Sinric's lungs, leaving him gasping.

[the_cupbearer]

"Don't," Ganymede hisses, turning as Zephyrus steps half-past him. "Leave him alone," he says, grasping the edge of one wing close to Zephyrus' shoulder and pulling hard, nails biting into the impossibly thin membrane.

"You came here for me. You deal with me."

[thewestwind]

He slaps Ganymede back, hissing at the fine tears on his sensitive wings. "For that, you're both going to suffer."

Sinric's still gasping as Zephyrus grabs Ganymede by the throat. He wraps his arms around Ganymede, pinning as he takes to the air.

[the_cupbearer]

Ganymede doesn't go willingly, and fights against the pinning arms, kicking at Zephyrus and shouting as loudly as he can, though whether anyone will hear is another matter.

He's still worried over Sinric and his struggles get wilder the higher Zephyrus takes Ganymede; he has never liked being picked up, not since Zeus. He finally breaks free some fifteen feet off the ground and falls gracelessly back to the earth, turning Sinric over to make sure he's still breathing.

[thewestwind]

Sinric is still gasping , clawing as his throat for air.

Zephyrus swoops in again to grab Ganymede by the throat this time, returning to his form at the east wind to race the captive Ganymede into the mountains.