The Land of Muses

( thelandofmuses )

      Many, many minutes had passed by, and Zaraan remained where he was. At the balcony, over-looking the crowd of people, lit by the glow of torches and fire-lamps. The various scents he was picking up was difficult to distinguish. He was quite new with his abilities. The only thing he had mastered was his incredible strength and speed. Generating and manipulating fire was the hardest, and most risky. Uncontrollable, at times. It was very dangerous for him to be out in a crowd: he could spontaneously combust something without meaning to. The slightest glitch of his mood, and anything could happen. He could be happy, and somebody near him could have their clothes be set on fire. Or he could be angry, and cause the natural fires in the party to grow wilder and consume everything. The more he thought on it, the more he became aware that he was a danger to everybody here. The phoenix rose, and had just about to turn to leave, when he felt a hand upon his shoulder. Eyes moved to the subject, and he noticed the same beefy man he had seen only moments ago, standing there with his gaze fixed upon him, scanning the phoenix, which he felt like he was being looked at like a common whore.

        Very rarely, did Zaraan venture out to the wilderness. Normally, he stayed homed in his cave, deep within a volcano, called Methana. There dwelled his brothers and him. Every now and again, they were allowed to venture out into the world to experience it, but never too close to Mount Olympus. They weren’t strong enough to face the Gods just yet. Tonight, would be the night Zaraan would venture outwards, away from the local village he visited. Nothing exciting ever happened. So finally, when he was allowed to go out, he departed for Delphi. There was some kind of celebration going on: he didn’t know what for. The phoenix had witnessed his fair share of celebrations, and he knew what that meant: alcohol, nude men and women, dancing and sex. It was just how things rolled. Unlike other frivolous people, Zaraan liked to be discreet about his bed adventures. He didn’t flaunt himself, but dressed enough to make an impression. An open, golden robe was thrown onto his fairly large build, a loincloth was wrapped around his groin, along with a bronze-colored strap of leather to keep everything secure. His chiseled, broad chest, and washboard abdomen, was on view for everyone to see. Not to mention his long, trunk-like legs, and his astonishing charming smile that made whores weak at the knees, and men who hid their sexuality behind their wives were biting onto their lower lip, eyeing the titan of a man with lust. Women fanned themselves as he passed. Zaraan wasn’t sure it was because of his scolding body temperature, or the fact that they found him to be an Adonis, of sorts.