[Completed]
An alchemist who poisoned himself, an assassin who stabbed his own heart, an arsonist who burned herself, and a hero who couldn't defeat his inner monster.
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( A re-enact of Hades...
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There was tenderness in the way sunshine touched the horizon and conquered the dark. How the rosy color displayed on morning sky, faded to lilac, and slowly transformed to periwinkle. That was how love was supposed to be, the way the sun graced earth. Warm and lenient, but what of Apollo? Had he, the god of the sun, loved that way?
"Thanks, Reg." the summer timbre was gentle, almost as if she was the starts of springs. Martin's ear tingled at the voice, and he paused from opening the bronze door of Ravenclaw Tower. The blond stood woodenly as he blinked in disbelief. Drowsiness had left when he recognized the familiar voice, it was akin to a bucket of ice poured atop his head. His skin was numbed from cold, yet atoms of the sun never subsided to burn.
Heat riled inside his chest while eyes peering to the girl behind the door. Stood in front of her was the Slytherin, the cold façade the pureblood had was replaced with serenity that glossed his judgemental face. Martin's heart squeezed. He heard that Black fashioned her a nickname; Raven. The Irish witch nodded, before she pivoted on her heels, took two steps forward, and looked over to Black.
The blond knew what he would see, it would hurt him but part of him was irrational to him. A part of him was spreading poison inside his mind to continue — he watched her azure eyes twinkled as if she had seen a falling star in the epitome of blood-crazed twat that was Regulus. He was not sure what tormented his heart the most. The fact that she did not look at him like that, or knowing that Gammaliel had never looked at anyone the way she looked at Regulus Black.
His fist clenched and Apollo stepped back. He felt the floor burned and crept up to his flesh. The boy dashed away, trying to ignore the egoistical fire that burned inside his chest. Rib-cage puffed filled with flaming air that expanded and multiplied the pain he felt. Two, three, maybe tenfolds before the blond heaving his body on one of the divans inside the Ravenclaw's private library. Like Ares, Apollo had always been bad at managing his anger.
He wanted to punch Black on the face, so, so bad that he kicked the table with one foot. It stashed at least a meter away, and he heard someone yelped of his action. Red-eyed, he darted his gaze to find a girl was on the twirling stairs, her skin glossed with honey as she clapped her hands to her mouth.
"I'm — I'm sorry." the blond boy swallowed his anger. His lips parted as his anger was gradually masked out with guilt. He tore his gaze to his knees, "I just had a bad morning, Jo."
