moar god phiction.
Managed to write something.
It's not M/O.
Original fiction.
Sorry about that.
D:
I'll write whilst I'm away, I promise. :)
Title: Festivals.
Rating: PG.
Summary: What happens to the festivals no-one celebrates anymore? mild m/m.
Notes: Unbeta'd, slash, sort of similar to my gods fic before. :]
Saturnalia growled gently, revealing pointed canines through the translucent front of his gasmask. A feral look seemed to grow in his yellow eyes, making them appear to glimmer and glint like those of a wolf. Armilustrium looked at him doubtfully through the plastic panes of his own mask. All around them, people continued to shuffle through their everyday business, ignoring the two tall, masked figures. Both men were particularly striking, each at nearly six foot five, with their odd clothing, looking more like something out of a nuclear war zone, than Roman Festivals. Saturnalia continued to watch the passers by, his eyes following them hungrily, fists clenched in front of him.
“Sat. You have to stop it,” Armilustrium warned, placing a large hand on the other man’s shoulder. Despite being the same height, Saturnalia knew not to mess with Armilustrium, after all, he was the god of war’s festival. The feral looking festival stiffened a little, but allowed himself to melt into the other man, his back pressing hard against Armilustrium’s chest, his yellow eyes now squeezed shut to block out any temptation.
“Armil... Are we going to die soon?” He asked in a strained voice; this time he felt the tension from the festival of Mars behind him. “No one wants to celebrate festivals of long dead gods anymore, Armil… We can’t even breathe around these people without these bloody gasmasks,” He snapped. The time the two of them had spent in London had evidently rubbed off on Saturnalia, with the twinge of Cockney in his accent that Armilustrium hadn’t noticed before.
“Look, truthfully?” Armilustrium asked, spinning the slightly skinnier man around to face him. “I don’t know. I’m not Janus. He’s been dead for years. Got hit by a truck, silly bastard. I can’t see into the future, and I’m not going to pretend I can. I’m Mars’ festival. I deal with wars. Not the consequences of them.” He growled, and Saturnalia looked up, the yellow eyes full of wrath only a brief few seconds ago were now mild and gentle.
“I don’t want to live like this Armil…” He murmured through the gasmask. Armilustrium faltered, he could never say no to the other festival. Maybe it was that they’d been together for so long. Over one thousand five hundred years, to be exact.
It was difficult not to get to know one another.
Saturnalia had always been odd - going from pure, red hot anger, to mild kicked puppy in under twenty seconds, and it seemed that Armilustrium was the only one who understood the other festival, who knew how to deal with his violent mood swings.
“Well then, let’s not.” He murmured in a gentle voice. The noise of the city seemed to stop around them, and Saturnalia looked at him with a mixture of sadness and curiosity.
“Are you suggesting what I think you’re suggesting?” He asked in a small voice. Armilustrium gave a tiny half smile.
“I think it’s best we let Christmas and Halloween have free range without runts like us clutching onto their feet?” He suggested, and Saturnalia smiled back tearfully.
“Christmas is a wanker.” He sniffed, and Armilustrium held him tighter, the two of them swaying from side to side slightly.
“I know. He’ll die out soon enough. I hear scientology’s getting pretty big,” He teased, arms going up behind Saturnalia’s head to the gasmask clip. “Unclip mine for me will you?” He asked softly. Saturnalia nodded thickly, and reached up into Armilustrium’s dark hair. There were two tiny clicks, that sounded deafening to both of them, and then the gasmasks were pulled off.
Armilustrium allowed his to drop to the floor with a loud clatter, and his hands went to either side of the other festival’s head, pulling him in roughly. Their lips met in a teasing, final kiss, the feeling odd and alien without any rubber or cold metal covering their faces.
“We had a good run, kid,” Armilustrium grinned, and Saturnalia couldn’t disagree.
---
Authors notes:
I dunno what’s going on with the gasmasks.
I guess it’s like life support. Because people don’t celebrate them anymore they can’t survive off regular ‘human vibes’.
I like these guys. I don’t know why.
(:
The name Saturnalia is great though.
XD
He’s the festival for Saturn.
And Armilustrium is the festival for Mars.
In case you were wondering.
Janus is the two faced god.
Can see beginnings and ends.
I don’t mean to cause offense to anyone’s religion with this, by the way!
^^;;
It's not M/O.
Original fiction.
Sorry about that.
D:
I'll write whilst I'm away, I promise. :)
Title: Festivals.
Rating: PG.
Summary: What happens to the festivals no-one celebrates anymore? mild m/m.
Notes: Unbeta'd, slash, sort of similar to my gods fic before. :]
Saturnalia growled gently, revealing pointed canines through the translucent front of his gasmask. A feral look seemed to grow in his yellow eyes, making them appear to glimmer and glint like those of a wolf. Armilustrium looked at him doubtfully through the plastic panes of his own mask. All around them, people continued to shuffle through their everyday business, ignoring the two tall, masked figures. Both men were particularly striking, each at nearly six foot five, with their odd clothing, looking more like something out of a nuclear war zone, than Roman Festivals. Saturnalia continued to watch the passers by, his eyes following them hungrily, fists clenched in front of him.
“Sat. You have to stop it,” Armilustrium warned, placing a large hand on the other man’s shoulder. Despite being the same height, Saturnalia knew not to mess with Armilustrium, after all, he was the god of war’s festival. The feral looking festival stiffened a little, but allowed himself to melt into the other man, his back pressing hard against Armilustrium’s chest, his yellow eyes now squeezed shut to block out any temptation.
“Armil... Are we going to die soon?” He asked in a strained voice; this time he felt the tension from the festival of Mars behind him. “No one wants to celebrate festivals of long dead gods anymore, Armil… We can’t even breathe around these people without these bloody gasmasks,” He snapped. The time the two of them had spent in London had evidently rubbed off on Saturnalia, with the twinge of Cockney in his accent that Armilustrium hadn’t noticed before.
“Look, truthfully?” Armilustrium asked, spinning the slightly skinnier man around to face him. “I don’t know. I’m not Janus. He’s been dead for years. Got hit by a truck, silly bastard. I can’t see into the future, and I’m not going to pretend I can. I’m Mars’ festival. I deal with wars. Not the consequences of them.” He growled, and Saturnalia looked up, the yellow eyes full of wrath only a brief few seconds ago were now mild and gentle.
“I don’t want to live like this Armil…” He murmured through the gasmask. Armilustrium faltered, he could never say no to the other festival. Maybe it was that they’d been together for so long. Over one thousand five hundred years, to be exact.
It was difficult not to get to know one another.
Saturnalia had always been odd - going from pure, red hot anger, to mild kicked puppy in under twenty seconds, and it seemed that Armilustrium was the only one who understood the other festival, who knew how to deal with his violent mood swings.
“Well then, let’s not.” He murmured in a gentle voice. The noise of the city seemed to stop around them, and Saturnalia looked at him with a mixture of sadness and curiosity.
“Are you suggesting what I think you’re suggesting?” He asked in a small voice. Armilustrium gave a tiny half smile.
“I think it’s best we let Christmas and Halloween have free range without runts like us clutching onto their feet?” He suggested, and Saturnalia smiled back tearfully.
“Christmas is a wanker.” He sniffed, and Armilustrium held him tighter, the two of them swaying from side to side slightly.
“I know. He’ll die out soon enough. I hear scientology’s getting pretty big,” He teased, arms going up behind Saturnalia’s head to the gasmask clip. “Unclip mine for me will you?” He asked softly. Saturnalia nodded thickly, and reached up into Armilustrium’s dark hair. There were two tiny clicks, that sounded deafening to both of them, and then the gasmasks were pulled off.
Armilustrium allowed his to drop to the floor with a loud clatter, and his hands went to either side of the other festival’s head, pulling him in roughly. Their lips met in a teasing, final kiss, the feeling odd and alien without any rubber or cold metal covering their faces.
“We had a good run, kid,” Armilustrium grinned, and Saturnalia couldn’t disagree.
---
Authors notes:
I dunno what’s going on with the gasmasks.
I guess it’s like life support. Because people don’t celebrate them anymore they can’t survive off regular ‘human vibes’.
I like these guys. I don’t know why.
(:
The name Saturnalia is great though.
XD
He’s the festival for Saturn.
And Armilustrium is the festival for Mars.
In case you were wondering.
Janus is the two faced god.
Can see beginnings and ends.
I don’t mean to cause offense to anyone’s religion with this, by the way!
^^;;