Chopin's Nocturne in E Flat

Juraquille

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Boring.

Recently, everything seemed to be so very boring.

It was this conclusion that had Solis wandering the second floor of the main Academy building, silently grousing to himself about everything, from his predicament to the very word 'boring'. Even with the rather late-- or early, depending on how one looked at it-- hour and his seemingly absentminded shuffle, he kept his guard up, nearly half of his attention always on his surroundings and those in it. It wouldn't do to let his guard down, after all. No, that could be construed as weakness, and he was loathe to show any sort of weakness.

It was this sort of attentiveness, however, that allowed him to catch the faintest hint of piano music breaking the still atmosphere of the halls. With a tilt of his head, he came to the decision to follow the sound to its source-- and why not? Surely it would provide more amusement than wandering around, whatever it was. He shuffled closer and closer to, if his memory served correctly, as it usually did, the music room; with each step, he could more clearly make out the song that was being played.

Ah. Frederic Chopin's Nocturne in E Flat. Even he, someone who rarely bothered with pursuits such as music or art, knew what it was. He also knew who exactly was particularly fond of such a piece.

The new kid; Apollo Liron.

He had yet to meet this... Apollo in person, but that didn't stop him from knowing all he possibly could about the male, as he did with most other Academy students. He mentally reviewed what he had learned from the guy's enrollment files as he took the last few steps necessary to come face-to-face with the music room's door, pausing only to ensure he had gone completely unnoticed before taking advantage of the not-fully-closed door.

With barely a sound-- though, he supposed even the quietest of people would be hard-pressed to successfully sneak up on someone whose power was sound-oriented--, he eased the door open, leaning his side on the door frame and folding his arms across his chest. Doing what he did best, he studied the outlined figure and cataloged every detail he could possibly need, but was unable to get a look at anything other than the back that was to him; he wasn't too inclined to change that, however, and didn't bother interrupting the pianist. Instead, he simply remained a silent observer.
 
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LaFaucheuseRouge

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It was already well into his first month at the Academy, and Apollo was still having trouble sleeping. Some nights were better than others; he'd lie in bed for two to three hours, listening to the crickets chirp, and end up dozing off eventually. Nights like these, however, were brutal. Too many thoughts occupying his head at once, too many memories replaying themselves, too many unanswered questions- everything was too much. He was restless. And so in the middle of the night- or, was it already morning, now?- he set out to ease his mind like only he could.

Even without the metal cane he used to help him navigate the twisting corridors of Starlight Academy, Apollo had already become well acquainted with the route from his dorm room to the music classroom on the second floor. He heard no one else around as he made his way through the halls, and quietly concluded that now was probably a time of night when piano playing might be considered highly inappropriate. However, his mind was already set; the keys were calling to him. He had to play.

Immediately upon entering the room(without even bothering to properly close the door, he was in such a hurry,) and setting himself down upon the piano bench, the auburn-haired boy began to feel more at ease. He scooted the bench to the proper position and let his hands hover gently above the keys, his fingers itching to get started. "€œNow," he mumbled to himself, "€œwhere to begin?"€

After a short period of contemplation, he decided, fittingly, that he'd play a night piece- thinking that might perhaps be the ticket that takes him to sleep at last. Setting his fingers down on the ivory, he started softly swaying as Chopin'€™s Nocturne in E flat began to sound from the instrument. There was nothing like the Romantic composer that brought Apollo'€™s wandering mind to rest. His eyes closed, and he let out a soft sigh of contentment, a smile playing on his lips. With every swell in the music, Apollo, too, did swell; from the moment they made contact, he and the piano were one.

He was made aware midway through the piece of a set of footsteps coming down the hall, followed by the sound of someone trying to silently nudge the door to the classroom further open. In retrospect, Apollo thought to himself, perhaps he really should have closed it- but that didn'€™t matter. He would not allow the entrance of this stranger to interrupt his playing. This was his time. This was his zone.

When the piece finally reached its conclusion, Apollo paused a moment, listening to the remnants of the final cadence ring against his ears, before dying away. He then set his hands upon his lap and, without turning around, addressed the figure in the doorway. "Forgive me for ignoring you for a while there," he said, friendly. "€œI'€™m not entirely used to having an audience here, nor was I expecting one."
 
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It appeared as if his entrance had gone completely unnoticed, yet Solis knew better. Instead of dwelling on that thought, though, he continued with his observations. Many of them were simply used as a comparison to the information he had gleaned from the student files he had nicked the moment he had heard rumors of a new kid-- honestly, a bunch of imbeciles, the lot of them in Administration--, but he knew the importance of being able to do more in-depth surveillances himself. There were some things, after all, that just couldn't be put into words without actually watching for oneself.

Seeing Apollo play before him, he could tell the blind boy was completely at home sitting on the piano bench, his fingers flying across the keys. It wasn't just that he was good, either, although he certainly was talented. No, Apollo all but breathed, lived the music he was playing. Even he, Solis, as foreign as such emotions were to him, could recognize such a passion as the one the pianist was embodying. Had he been anyone else, the sight may just have been touching. Instead, he merely filed it away for further examination, to be considered at a later date.

Having kept a portion of his attention on Apollo himself even as he silently mused over the observations he had made so far, he noted the exact moment the song came to a close. He remained silent, however, and wasn't at all startled when the other boy started talking, addressing him. He had deduced the moment he had shifted the door open that it was more than likely that Liron's power would alert him to the intrusion, and he had duly prepared himself. Still, he didn't respond, quietly staring at Apollo's back, his charcoal black gaze flicking thoughtfully. After several moments, he finally stepped into the room, walking towards the pianist's bench and standing a scant few inches behind and to the right of Apollo.

"Yes, well, I wasn't exactly expecting a show, now was I?" He murmured, his voice quiet, as if he wasn't used to speaking and didn't realize how softly he was speaking. "However, I find this impromptu meeting to be quite beneficial." Had there not been a bench in the way, Solis would have started circling the other, stalking him as a predator did their prey. Unfortunately, that wasn't an option here, though he did make do with pacing from Apollo's right-hand side to his left for several more moments, close enough to bump into had the blind boy simply decided to turn around. "You are Apollo Liron, correct?" This, he paused at the other's left, leaning forward to whisper it into Apollo's ear. He also had a hope of simultaneously catching a glimpse of the other's face-- another facet of his almost obsessive need to know as much as he could about those around him--, but wouldn't be discouraged if it didn't happen.
 
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LaFaucheuseRouge

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Apollo laughed- a bit uncomfortably. "€œYep, that'™s me."€ He could tell from the stranger's voice, small and silent as it was, that he was another student, probably around the same age as himself. However, the way in which he spoke left an odd feeling sitting in Apollo's stomach. That, coupled with the fact that the boy and his voice were so close to him, and continuously pacing around him, was enough to make him uneasy.

He didn'€™t know what to make of the boy'€™s earlier statement; he was used to being either complimented or critiqued on his playing, and the silent ambiguity with which he addressed his performance....it didn'€™t quite offend him, but it didn'€™t sit well with him either. Shifting himself slightly away from the male, who was beginning to get a bit too close for comfort, he shrugged. "œWell, unexpected as it may have been, I hope you liked what you heard."€ He wanted to keep the newcomer talking. Perhaps, then, he'™d get a clearer opinion from him then- and perhaps, a further investigation of his unusual, almost calculating demeanor.

Beneficial, had he said? Now why on earth would this be beneficial for him? Apollo was still pretty new in Starlight; practically no one even knew his name, much less anything useful about him. The list of unnerving quirks about this boy continued to increase. Regardless, Apollo put that statement on the backburner for the moment. He wanted to find out a little more about this....stranger. He still hadn'€™t learned his name yet.

He made to turn and face the male- though quickly realized such an action would be impossible and a bit ridiculous in these circumstances. If he turned left, he'€™d bump right into the poor kid'€™s face- an embarrassment he certainly didn'€™t want to leave as his first impression. Turning right, however, would lead to a whole string of humiliations- suppose he turned too far, or not far enough, and began talking to the boy'€™s shoulder instead of his face! More than once he had had to be repositioned by a parent or friend whilst speaking to them. It was so much easier when they spoke first; he could just point himself towards the sound of their voice once they began talking. But the boy here was moving, pacing...he didn't want to risk the awkwardness that would surely ensue if he tried to face him.

Remaining with his body angled towards the piano, he nodded in what he thought was the general direction of the boy (less risky than turning, he thought to himself). "Forgive me, but I don'€™t think I recognize your voice. Who are you?" He immediately wanted to slap himself for sounding like such an idiot. What good would a name do, when every name in Starlight was unfamiliar to him? "€œA-And what grade are you in? Have I come across you before?" he added quickly, hoping to learn at least a little more about his midnight visitor, so he could ask more questions later.
 
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He watched with what could almost be called glee as Apollo began to squirm in such a situation, his normally expressionless features twitching into the faintest hint of a smirk before it was gone just as quick as it had appeared. Of course, it didn’t matter whether he kept up his mask or not, considering it was a blind boy he was antago-- ah, talking to. Silently, he allowed Apollo his several moments to collect himself and come to a decision of how to react while he himself basked in the odd, smug sense of pride he felt upon seeing the blind boy struggle. It was actually quite amusing in itself to watch the other male try to puzzle out Solis’ intentions, as he knew anything Apollo came up with wouldn’t be very close to the truth, the real reasons he was doing what he was doing.

He mentally shook himself out of his musings the moment he sensed the other’s demeanor change even the slightest-- he was always aware of his surroundings regardless of how thoughtful he became--, indicating that he had decided what he was going to do. He refrained from letting out a delicate snort of derision as he heard the other boy out, despite how much he wanted to just rip into Apollo right that second and begin mocking him. Instead, he leaned back so he was standing straight again, resuming his slow, nearly rhythmic pacing. He could tell that it threw the blind boy off, and therefore he would continue with it for as long as he could manage it.

“I suppose who I am is subjective-- you, however, may call me Solis.” He drawled quietly, the way he spoke his name sounding more like ‘solace’ than anything. He then paused, as if trying to organize his thoughts. “That is, of course, the only thing you need to know about myself; everything else is unimportant at the moment.” As he deflected many of the other's questions, he finally allowed the smirk that was threatening to break across his lips form. The expression, though, appeared much darker than what one would imagine a smirk to look like; it was more akin to a manic grin, Solis’ black eyes glinting in the dim light of the music room.

Barely a few seconds later, he let out a soft chuckle. To a normal person with normal senses, it would sound just like an everyday chuckle one would use when finding something amusing yet not wanting to laugh outright, as if whatever said had been funny. But, to someone like Apollo, whose sense of hearing was far more acute than a normal human’s, there was something not quite… right with the sound. Be it Solis’ sadistic tendencies leaking out, or simply the twisted pleasure he got from provoking the new kid like this, there was definitely something off about it that Apollo would be able to pick up on.
 
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LaFaucheuseRouge

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This was by far the most bizarre situation Apollo had found himself in upon arriving at the Academy, which was saying something. Not only was it bizarre, though- it was downright frightening. Everything about the stranger behind him screamed '€œvillain-' and yet there was absolutely nothing he could do. He felt helpless- a feeling he had never wanted to feel again, not after that time... The helplessness, coupled with that memory, amplified his fear even more. If he couldn'™t get a grip on himself now, there was no telling what kind of destruction his voice might unleash. At least because the room was soundproofed, it wouldn't make it past the walls- but he'd still have whatever mess he'd make of the inside to account for. Including the piano...

The boy'™s footsteps as he circled the piano bench were like a metronome, keeping a slow, steady, haunting pulse. Step. Step. Step. With every beat, Apollo'™s heart pounded against his chest in eighth notes. Step. Ba-bump. Step. Ba-bump. This was not good. Breathe, he tried to tell himself.

Solis, he had said his name was. Like solace. A word meaning comfort, consolation, in times of distress. That was absolutely the farthest thing from what the boy here seemed to be. In fact, he seemed to want nothing more than to cause distress, rather than alleviate it. He was cruel, calculating, probably trying to figure out just what buttons he had to press to get Apollo to break. At any rate, it was certainly working. He felt like a frail, crippled deer, being circled by a hungry wolf in the dead of night. Indeed, it would seem as if this Solis was prowling now, his eyes burning into his juicy prey.

What was this guy? Everything else is unimportant at the moment. What was his problem? What the hell could he possibly have against Apollo, to be going through all this trouble? This mysterious, sinister air the boy had been keeping up was beginning to get on Apollo'€™s nerves-

And then he laughed. A low, dark, crisp chuckle, the sound of which was enough to send shivers down Apollo'€™s spine, freezing him back into a state of terror. This kid is insane. His heartbeat hastened to triplets. Step, ba-ba-bump, step, ba-ba-bump, step, ba-ba-bump. It began to feel like his pulse had become a horrific waltz, pounding itself throughout his entire core.

"€œL-Look,"€ he said, and he cringed at the sound of his own wavering tone. The last thing he wanted was for Solis to be aware of just how scared he was. He cleared his throat for a moment, then tried again. "€œLook. I don'€™t know what you'€™re trying to do here, pal, but I don'™t appreciate it." He stood up from the piano bench, stepping over to the side and reaching to grab his cane. He didn'€™t have time for this crap, is what he wished he was thinking. What he really was thinking was something along the lines of run away, run away, run away, run THE HELL AWAY.
 
Juraquille

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It really was amusing how worked up Apollo was becoming. He wasn’t even doing much, had barely even started. That thought had him chuckling again, this time the sound coming out as a faintly demented giggle-- though, of course, he would adamantly reject that he, Solis Karma, ever giggled. Even he, as twisted and only slightly mentally unstable as he was, had his manly pride. Besides, the questionability of his manliness wasn’t the point; what mattered was the male all but squirming as he sat on the piano bench, filled with fear that Solis had inflicted with simply his presence and a few words. That, in fact, had to be some sort of personal record for him. Not that he was keeping track of such inane things. Definitely not.

He basked in the feeling of helplessness and anxiety even someone without empathic abilities would be able to sense all but radiating off of Apollo in waves. It was fun to him, seeing others in such a state because of him. No, he would never again be the one squirming like that, like some animal faced with a larger, superior predator. Like a cruelly pinned butterfly, still alive and fighting for its life when everyone around it knows, knows that its struggles are futile and yet unwilling to help. Unwilling to destroy the dark beauty they've found beneath the cruel destruction.

And then Apollo spoke, his voice so uncertain, so intimidated, so afraid despite the boy’s best efforts to hide it. No, unless someone had an actual power that revolved around emotional and mental masks, facades, there was no hiding such reactionary fear from Solis. It was as if he were a demon that fed off of fear, searching and searching for even the smallest, most minuscule amount of the emotion and running with it, making it grow and grow until it was all-encompassing, all-knowing, all-powerful. Completely and utterly omnipotent.

But of course, he was, in reality, just a human. There was no way he could actually sniff out fear, in a sense, or make it grow like that. His hallucinations, though, would ensure that the fear would become omnipotent… either to the point of suicide, or debilitating insanity.

“Your opinion means little me, Apollo Liron.” He whispered, that tiny bit of madness tinging his own voice; quite the opposite of the other male’s. Suddenly, he grabbed for Apollo’s outstretched arm, gripping his wrist tightly with a deceptively slender hand and forcing him to turn, even if it meant the other would have to spin around rather clumsily. He then used his other hand to reach up and gently, oh-so-lightly flicked Apollo’s forehead with his middle finger and thumb. It had to be the faintest touch he had ever done, and he wondered how that would affect his power’s ability. Would there merely be flashbacks as opposed to full-out hallucinations? Only one sense affected as opposed to the complete control over all five? Or maybe, because Apollo had been born blind and had never seen at all-- as well as taking his sound-based power into consideration-- it would be more geared towards auditory manipulation?

Regardless of the way it affected the blind boy, it would be an experiment worth following through, one that provided enough data and information so it would outweigh the risks. He was prepared for every eventuality, in any case.
 
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LaFaucheuseRouge

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There was a moment, when the tip of Solis' finger made contact with Apollo'€™s head, in which all of time froze.

In that moment, there was a light. It started in the center of Apollo'™s field of...vision? It couldn't be called that, he supposed in retrospect. At any rate, it began in the center of his familiar blackness, and grew, slowly, steadily, encompassing everything before him, so that what was dark was now bathed in what he could only ironically describe as blinding light. And as the light grew, Apollo could feel a heat against his eyes- building and building until he could have sworn someone was shoving hot coals in his face. He felt tremors rise and fall over him, as if the light was crawling into his pores, under his skin, throughout his body, into his ears and back out of his eyes.

Suddenly a voice cried out- but it was unlike any voice he had ever heard before. It had three different levels, each at a different frequency, all sounding together as one. All locked in a terrified, bloodcurdling scream. Three pitches to one horrifying, distorted wall of sound pounding, pounding against his eardrums. Three distinct voices, melded together into one monstrous scream-

His mother, crying out in pain.

His father, crying out in grief.

His teacher, crying out in rage.

And then there came yet another voice. Softer, much, much softer, almost imperceptibly quiet, yet perfectly clear against the ever ringing terrible scream. A crisp, cold voice, with just the right amount of malice and insanity in its tone to send a new wave of shivers up his spine. Repeating those same words, over, and over, and over, that he had just heard-

'€œYour opinion means little to me, Apollo Liron.'€

Oh my God. Oh my God what is happening to me?! The light slowly became absorbed by a new darkness- but rather than fading, the burning against his eyes began to spread throughout the rest of his body. Your opinion means little to me, Apollo Liron. What is this madness?! The screaming, too, did not diminish, but intensified in volume, louder and louder and louder. Your opinion means little- The darkness expanded further, and as it did so, the voice became warped, and even more distorted than before, dropping lower, lower, lower, while even still increasing in volume. He thought he felt a slow steady trickle of blood drip drip drip down the side of his neck from his ear. -means little to me- Somebody do something!! Please!! The blackness had consumed him- but there was something else, something approaching, a streak of white against the dark. His heart was pounding harder and harder, ba-bump, ba-bump, ba-bump, your opinion means little, so hard he thought his ribs might crack apart. The shape came closer, closer, still closer little to me and the scream grew louder, demonic in nature. Help he tried to cry out but his voice wasn'€™t working HELP he heard a low chuckle over the sound of the screaming Your opinion means little to me he could make out something now oh God save me something in front of him SOMEBODY HELP ME! the chuckle grew larger and louder into a maniacal laugh Apollo Liron that echoed Apollo Liron through his skull APOLLO LIRON and then there was a face staring him down, right in front of him, a face with eyes as dark as the night and glinting with horrible, cruel insanity as the laughter and screaming and burning pain persisted, and the face before him swept its jet black hair aside and gave the smallest of evil smirks, and whispered-

'ÂœBoo.'

Apollo screamed.

He felt the sound wave rip through his body, and with it purge him of the burning sensation he had been feeling. The wave spread throughout the entirety of the small practice room, sending the piano into the wall with a loud dissonant BANG, and dissipated once it struck the soundproof walls. He stood in the center of the room, panting, his legs shaking, clasping his hands over his ears, then over his eyes. One thought was running through his mind as he tried in vain to settle himself:

Oh God.

Did I just see?
 
Juraquille

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He watched eagerly, dark eyes glinting in the dim lighting with the focus of a hawk searching out its prey, for Apollo’s reaction. For the briefest of seconds, it felt as if the whole world had come to a standstill, but Solis paid little mind to the odd sensation. Instead, he kept all of his genius-level attention on the other male, catching every single detail, every little nuance. It was morbidly fascinating for the fear-based empath-- of course, that meant it was outright terrifying to a normal person-- to see the previously serene, if a bit unnerved, features contort into a grotesque mask of absolute horror.

It was something Solis basked in for as long as he could manage before re-devoting every part of his mind to memorizing. Quickly but no less gracefully, he shifted his weight back, so he was standing up straight, and let go of Apollo’s arm. His nearly black gaze followed the other male’s every motion as his hands shot up to clamp around his ears, the insanity mirrored in his eyes intensifying as he caught the thin river of blood dripping through whitening fingers. Gone was the bluntly apathetic, quiet if a bit sardonic young man. In his place was someone, or maybe even something, drenched in darkness, of the corrupt demons that plagued Solis.

The only way he could appear so cold and calculating day in and day out, after all, was to push push push that distorting insanity away, to a corner of his mind that rarely got to see the light of day; it was only when Solis was quite sleep deprived or extremely bored that this dark side of him was able to wrest free of the normally ironclad control he had over it.

Barely sparing any thoughts to conjure up feelings of horror at what he himself had become that night-- or was it morning?—, he continued his self-proclaimed mission with an unholy passion. In the span of what could have barely been a minute, he watched all of this play out, before leaning forward again to peer into the other male’s face, a pale hand running through his hair even as he whispered near silently, “Boo.”

His unfettered enjoyment, however, all came to a halt the moment Apollo screamed.

Again, there was that feeling of time freezing in place, though unlike the first, this instance managed to catch the empath off guard. As such, he was considerably startled when the powerful scream-induced sound wave flung him into the wall as if he were nothing more than a rag doll, his consciousness leaving him as his head took some of the impact.

It felt like an eternity and then some before Solis woke up, though it could have only been five minutes later at the most. His eyes fluttered open as he let out a pained groan, grimacing at the taste of blood on his tongue. Had he bit his tongue? Or did something internal rupture? He hoped it was simply the former and not something that warranted a trip to the infirmary wing. Oh, how he loathed anything even remotely akin to a hospital.

His thoughts followed similar paths until he regained his bearings, the memories of the night-- morning?— flooding back to him. He gave another groan, resisting the urge to curl up into a little ball where his body had crumpled to the floor.

He would never in a million years admit this aloud, but he was rather ashamed that he had spun that out of control; shame was something entirely new to him, and he didn’t exactly like how it left a bitter taste in his mouth-- or was that just the blood again?

Having forgotten Apollo entirely in the onslaught of pain, emotions, and thoughts once he regained consciousness, his gaze fell on the other male as he tried standing, only to stumble and fall back into an uncomfortable sitting position. His eyes, just as black but lacking the disturbing glint of unadulterated insanity, roved over the distressed male, unable to stop himself from thinking back on the intense reaction and the fact that the other appeared perfectly sane and not at all suicidal. Just what had Apollo experienced?
 
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LaFaucheuseRouge

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Apollo needed a few minutes.

…would be a gross understatement for how the boy was feeling.

While the visions- both auditory and, yes, visual, as unbelievable as it may have seemed- were indeed traumatic for him, Apollo could eventually feel himself coming back to his senses. After all, he thought, what had he just witnessed but a waking form of his already vivid nightmares? Had he not already had experience with horrific sounds taking control of his mind in his sleep? If it weren’t for the recurring dreams that plagued him every night, he probably would have lost it after a hallucination of this magnitude. Hell, he still hadn’t ruled out the possibility that he was losing it now.

Once he had finally begun to stabilize his breathing, his thoughts returned to the room- to what had just happened- to his reaction. Oh my god. Oh my god, what have I done? He stumbled forward to where the piano had once been, then gently paced his way over to the nearest wall- the most likely place for what remained of the instrument to have ended up. Extending his hand out, he reached around until he felt a slash of pain, as he grazed the sharp end of a broken metal string. His hand recoiled for a moment, before continuing, more cautiously this time, to feel about the empty space. He touched the once smooth, glossy wooden surface of the piano’s rim- now cracked and splintered and lying in fragments all around him. God, what have I done?

Suddenly, he heard a soft groan from the corner of the room. His blood ran cold. Solis. The boy groaned again. Apollo heard a small thud as he fell to the ground, no doubt having failed in an attempt to stand up. He couldn’t imagine the damage he must have done to the male- his heart started to pound, thinking back to the piano. He imagined feeling out to find the bones of the boy’s leg just as fragmented and splintered as the legs of the beautiful instrument- only Solis’ legs would be dripping with blood…

Panicked at the thought, Apollo rushed in the direction of Solis’ moans- though he did not get very far before he tripped and fell over a small pile of rubble left from where Solis had hit the wall. Groaning himself now, he crawled the remainder of the way forward, careful to dodge any other debris littering the floor, before he came into contact with the boy’s foot. He gently lifted himself up, kneeling down at Solis’ level.

“Oh my goodness, are….are you okay?” After everything that villain had just made him experience, it was a wonder that Apollo still felt concerned for the male. Nevertheless, he couldn’t bear with the thought that two things would be lost to his uncontrolled power- one being the piano, the other being the boy. Apollo had to make sure he was okay. He couldn’t hurt anybody else. He couldn’t.

Holding his hands out, slowly, he maneuvered through the air until his fingers brushed the tip of Solis’ head. From there he moved as quickly as possible, so as not to make things too awkward. He felt around Solis’ head for bumps, cuts, blood, and anything of the like- besides one bump and a very small trickle of blood on the side of his head, the boy seemed to be alright. Something about him, though…A suspicion arose within the back of his mind. Apollo moved his hands over very briefly to his face, making sure there were no serious gashes. I hope he’s still only barely conscious, he thought to himself, as he ran a few fingers over his forehead, the bridge of his nose, his temples, his…cheeks…his chin…

Everything about his head felt strange. Not abnormal- he was, for the most part, fine, especially considering the blast he sustained. But the shape of his head, the shape of his face…it was almost as if he could-

Eyes as black as night. A thin white streak in a sea of jet black hair. A smirk tugging on pale lips. It was just as he had suspected.

-as if he could picture what that face looked like.

He let out a gasp, backing away ever so slightly from the recovering boy. This was…this was not right. This wasn’t real. But it was. Solis. The first, the only person Apollo had ever gotten the chance to see. And it was this kid.

With undertones of awe, shock, and disgust in his tone, Apollo spoke softly to the figure in front of him. “What did you do to me?”
 
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