Author Games: World Seasons

Task One - Parade - Bonfire Tributes

 Epethemeus Ash

Eyeliner.

They've put him in eyeliner. Epethemeus scowls and leans back against his chariot. How very dare they. The rest of his make-up has been chalked out onto his face too, despite his wishes. Nothing else is around his eyes - thank the heavens - except for eyeliner, which apparently is there to bring out the colour in his eyes. Epethemeus can't see what colour they mean, his eyes are a very, very dark brown. They've made his skin paler, they've coloured his lips in and worst of all, they've messed with his spikes.

He tilts his head so he can see Fiametta, and their eyes meet for just a second. Some sort of comforting message is passed between the two, maybe of reassurance that their lives aren't in danger, not today anyway. Epethemeus turns his head back so he's facing forwards. Between him and Fiametta, they worked out their approach, despite what the stylists said.

Who actually cares what the stylists think? They're messed up, he knows that for sure. After all, who in their right mind would put someone in this outfit. Epethemeus hates it. Black trousers, with flares at the bottom and flames running up the side. The black long sleeved top isn't doing him any favours too, and the intricate swirls off flames just don't suit him. Burnt orange, smoky grey, neither are his colour and the black is too lighter shade for his liking. The only thing he enjoys about his outfit, is the choker, contrasting to Fiametta's ruby coloured choker, his is a burnt umber colour with a square stud directly in the centre. As much as he hates to admit it, he knows Fiametta looks better than him. The chariot rolls into the parade, and everything takes off. The fireworks blast off behind him, creating a sight for the eyes Epethemeus hears the gasps but he won't react. His eyes are locked on what's ahead. One of the fireworks shoots across the tip of one of his spikes, singing it slightly. He winces. His seemingly blank expression holds so many thoughts, thoughts of everything.

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Fiametta Embers

Fiametta winces as the stylist tugs the silver chains into place. Comfort has no place in the interest of the spectacular. Their chariot has been embellished to contain a tower of fire wood and using a gleaming platinum chain they have been bound to the structure. Beside her Epethemeus makes a gruff exhalation of complaint. She is glad to have been paired with him. The irritation dancing in his eyes reminds her very much of the anger writhing inside her. 

The skirt of her dress itches uncomfortably against her skin. Layers of ripped taffeta plume outwards in a burst of auburns, smoky greys and burnt oranges to create the impression of a roaring fire engulfing both her and Epethemeus in its grasp. The bodice of her dress is a smouldering red. An intricate swirl of lace cut out snake upwards to her chest revealing the skin beneath. The deep scarlet emphasises her porcelain complexion so that it gleams with added luminosity. Furling prongs of lace flames reach for her throat where the ruby choker has been fastened. The intricate links of silver secure a teardrop ruby in place. It chokes her throat exactly where the rope had enclosed a burning ring of suffocation around the neck of her father. 

Her make up has been delicately painted upon her face as an extension of her inner thoughts. The smoky greys and kohl which surround her eyes allow her glare of fury to reach a higher level of intensity. Her lips have been stained blood red and then encrusted with droplets of ruby jewels. They glint with each smirk and sneer that passes across her lips. 

Fiametta tightens her grip on the chains that bind her in place while fixing a determined glare of hatred. The combined wrath of Fiametta and Epethemeus create a startling sight to behold. They explode into the parade in a haze of fireworks and flickering of flames. But burning brighter are the expressions of anger. They condone everything these Games stand for. Burning at the stake, they are martyrs for their cause.

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Blaze Conflagration

He walked over towards Ash with a cheeky grin. Ash merely rolled her amber eyes at Blaze. Blaze pouted at her.

"I think you bruised my ego." He whined. 

"Seriously Blaze? Please be a tad more mature because the odds are against us. One of us will have to die sooner or later and I'd rather not let it be me." She stated in the same pitch.

Blaze's eyes darkened. 

"I see how it is..." He said coolly, his eyes flashing murderously. 

Blaze looked even more sinister since he was wearing his costume. The dark and light specks up close they looked like simple dots, but once you saw the full outfit, it was a different story. The outfit made the dots move around slightly and the outfit was a mirage of moving ash. There were a few flecks of amber and rose gold. Ash's costume was a much more dramatic dress that billowed out in the wind whereas Blaze was wearing a tight body suit. Since Ash's natural hair was already ash grey, the only thing different with it was the styling was windblown. Their stylist took special care of Blaze's hair and decided to let some red show to show more ember like.

Blaze and Ash's stylists waved them over.

"It's time to begin, isn't it?" Ash murmured. 

Blaze only Cheshire Cat smiled, his eyes nearly burned with madness. Ash flinched. 

"Conflagration, snap out of it!" She hissed at him, trying not to show her fear of Blaze. 

They got on their float. He leaned over to his stylist and whispered something. The stylist nodded, then raced off to get something. When the stylist got back, the float was already moving.

"Put these on your hands!" The stylist shouted and threw something at Ash and Blaze. Ash grabbed one and vice versa. 

"Put it on your left hand!" Blaze shouted over the madness of the crowd. 

Ash did. Instantaneously, flames shot out of the glove like equipment. The crowd's volume went through the roof. Blaze smiled insanely as shadows danced along him while Ash tried to keep herself from getting away from her district partner.  

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 Ash Wilde