Author Games: The Art of War

Chapter Four: Males

Rouge: Ariel 'Sol' Solace

The drop below him was roughly twenty stories.

At least, by his estimate. It was hard to make out anything in the dark, the stars that were out offering little to no help. The only real source of light came from the hallway adjacent to the room he was sitting outside of. The soft glow spilled into the dark bedroom that sat behind him, empty and for the moment, forgotten. He could hear words drift through the hallway, too fuzzy for him to make out. At one point he could recognize Colette speaking, which was shortly followed by a series of murmurs.

Assuming that the memorial was starting, Sol took it as an excuse to pour himself another glass. The cold bottle beside him was half empty now, and for a moment it almost slipped from his grasp. Reacting quickly, the boy snatched it out of the air before setting it back down on the concrete ledge beside him. He didn't want to imagine how many fragments the thing would have shattered into had it fallen from the penthouse window. Then again, maybe having it sitting outside on the concrete ledge of a building twenty stories up wasn't a very good idea.

Sol was careful enough, though. Even if the bottle dropped, he had enough confidence in himself that he wouldn't let his own body go spilling down after it. Had he had the opportunity, he would've sat on the balcony instead. However, that meant other people, and at that moment having to talk to someone else was the last thing on his mind.

Placing the glass against his lips, he took in a heavy breath. The alcohol flooded his senses, making him cough. Nonetheless, it was a welcoming scent. Everything else smelled of smoke, of the remnants of the fire they had barely gotten out of. Even his shirt still had the faint scent after being washed several times over. What was worse, thanks to the stupid memorial the entire penthouse would soon stink of smoke too. All those bodies gathered around the fire made their base seem too warm and cramped for Sol's liking. Out here the soft breeze was colder, more fitting in his opinion, after what had happened.

He downed his entire glass in one shot before reaching for the bottle to refill it. In grabbing it, his left hand let out a small protest, a sudden stab of pain running through his knuckles. After pouring himself a new round, he set the alcohol aside to give them a good look over.

Even in the poor lighting, he could see the newly formed bruises and places where scabs were soon to appear. Unable to help himself, he began to pick at the where the skin had been ripped away. A small spring of blood appeared on the back of Solace's hand. He grimaced, instantly wiping it away with his thumb. A magician's hands were one of his most important tools, and Ariel had beaten his left one to Hell. Well, maybe not quite that bad, but it certainly didn't help that he was picking at the cuts before they had had time to scab over. Admittedly, it was a bad habit. Still, there wouldn't have been any blood on his hands to begin with if he had just been quicker.

He could've stopped the bullet. He was sure of it now. Now that he had had time to factor in the trajectory and the wind speed, he knew how he could've. Had Sol been two steps closer, he would have been able to reach Martin's sleeve and tug him out of the way. Yet he hadn't been. Instead, Mitsue and Kimchi had watched him fail. The thought alone made him want to slam his fist into the wall all over again.

Taking a deep breath, Ariel gazed up at the sky. He took a long sip, then used the once again empty glass to stare at the stars like he would with a telescope. He shouldn't have been letting himself get so worked up. It wasn't like the death mattered that much, not to him. Some of the Nixes, however, seemed to have very conflicting opinions. Despite his previous statements, he couldn't help but wonder how the memorial was going.

The crackling of the fire had died down, but the smell remained. All the voices from before that Sol had been tuning out had quieted. The only sound that did remain was a sweet melody, slowly spreading its way through the penthouse. It was the kind that made your heart and your head ache at the same time, and for a moment, Ariel was more than tempted to yell at Mitsue to shut the Hell up. It wasn't that the music was bad of course. In fact, it was gorgeous. He just couldn't stand listening to something so soft and sappy. He needed upbeat music, something a good club would have.