Being a Demi had its perks. Most of us lavished and were flocked by the cities for all types of opportunity. The women, the gold, the statues, the speeches, they never ceased. Where one piece ended another poet would pick up and write a dozen lines again and again. Although for me, this never happened. When it happens enough; returning from a voyage to see your mates taken in and smiling from every which plebeian; to see through the smizles where the eyes don't go taut even though the folds of their mouths look rounded. Sure I receive love from my fellow Demis but we are far and few between. The hate I feel for the masses sears into me like a hot coal freshly taken from the underlayer of a furnace, layed on my flesh until it swallows it whole. The merchants conspired to get my tariff reduced by 50% this last voyage. Enough of him they said, he does nothing, the reports say so. My fellow Demi’s obviously have my back but are unable to say exactly what it is I do, as ordained by the gods. The Plebs know we are branded but by what and whom is hidden. Extravagance is baked into our souls through the gods.
They say when a Demi manifests it takes on the feeling of lust mixed with rage and all around feels heavy as if there is a weight in the air. When I manifested it was nothing like that. I was a child, alone and afraid, crouched and hiding as I watched two uninitiated tear through my fathers caravan. A lamp or oil must have tipped over because the store cart was on fire. I sat numbly and watched as the low forest wall crested into gold red flames swallowed the still blackened sky. The two finally reached my car and I stood; a small child, too long a spear in hand, a shield taking up my body to my neck. As sorrow turned to anger, I played them into action. A moment later the first one launched at me and I felt his weight, it shattered against mine. My internal dialogue lurched and feelings of dread and anguish fueled the air. Faces of terror and confusion looked back at me as I felt for anything, not even the satisfaction of putting down these two morsels brought me back. My training prepared me to aim for the heart or the top of the thigh depending on how heavy their armor looked, they weren't wearing any. Uncle gave me a personalized spear afterwards, and members of the Demi came to our estate. It comes in waves, this emptiness, feeding on the heaviness of my enemies and allies alike. I make Demis weaker. That is my purpose. I serve the Aetolian League.
I like the freshly imported sawdust of carthage which has a sweet smell to it. It's why I stay near the southern port, whereas Browning likes the taste of citrus and women so naturally hes closer to the market. When briefs are delivered I, being a stationary individual, am given mine first and told to rally my second. Browning hates when I fetch him.
PmMeFanFic t1_j0wlw4y wrote
Reply to [WP] Your super power is preventing collateral damage. While the public thinks you're useless, all the other heroes really like you because they can go bonkers all out while you're around. by Time_Significance
Being a Demi had its perks. Most of us lavished and were flocked by the cities for all types of opportunity. The women, the gold, the statues, the speeches, they never ceased. Where one piece ended another poet would pick up and write a dozen lines again and again. Although for me, this never happened. When it happens enough; returning from a voyage to see your mates taken in and smiling from every which plebeian; to see through the smizles where the eyes don't go taut even though the folds of their mouths look rounded. Sure I receive love from my fellow Demis but we are far and few between. The hate I feel for the masses sears into me like a hot coal freshly taken from the underlayer of a furnace, layed on my flesh until it swallows it whole. The merchants conspired to get my tariff reduced by 50% this last voyage. Enough of him they said, he does nothing, the reports say so. My fellow Demi’s obviously have my back but are unable to say exactly what it is I do, as ordained by the gods. The Plebs know we are branded but by what and whom is hidden. Extravagance is baked into our souls through the gods.
They say when a Demi manifests it takes on the feeling of lust mixed with rage and all around feels heavy as if there is a weight in the air. When I manifested it was nothing like that. I was a child, alone and afraid, crouched and hiding as I watched two uninitiated tear through my fathers caravan. A lamp or oil must have tipped over because the store cart was on fire. I sat numbly and watched as the low forest wall crested into gold red flames swallowed the still blackened sky. The two finally reached my car and I stood; a small child, too long a spear in hand, a shield taking up my body to my neck. As sorrow turned to anger, I played them into action. A moment later the first one launched at me and I felt his weight, it shattered against mine. My internal dialogue lurched and feelings of dread and anguish fueled the air. Faces of terror and confusion looked back at me as I felt for anything, not even the satisfaction of putting down these two morsels brought me back. My training prepared me to aim for the heart or the top of the thigh depending on how heavy their armor looked, they weren't wearing any. Uncle gave me a personalized spear afterwards, and members of the Demi came to our estate. It comes in waves, this emptiness, feeding on the heaviness of my enemies and allies alike. I make Demis weaker. That is my purpose. I serve the Aetolian League.
I like the freshly imported sawdust of carthage which has a sweet smell to it. It's why I stay near the southern port, whereas Browning likes the taste of citrus and women so naturally hes closer to the market. When briefs are delivered I, being a stationary individual, am given mine first and told to rally my second. Browning hates when I fetch him.