He Who Flew Too Close

Chapter 3

AN: Just a head's up, all Lorelei, Miranda and Apollo are 19 in this story. Apollo's aging system should be explained at some point. I'm a bit worried Lorelei comes off a bit younger with the immaturity about sex so I'll try to fix it when I edit.

Miranda absentmindedly presses a single key of the piano over and over. I barely notice; the two of us have been practicing for about an hour, but we have both drifted into deep thought. I sit with my hands twisted through my hair and my teeth gritted. I have to kill something or I'll be considered a failure, the fallen prophet unable to live up to the expectations of his destiny.

“Say, Lorelei,” Miranda whispers. “About the chosen by God thing. Do you believe me?”

I resist the urge to roll my eyes. She doesn't seem too phased about the whole murder aspect. It's all about fulfilling her own goals. 

“Were you chosen by god?” I ask.

Miranda folds her arms. “Yes, I was.”

What she's saying is just so… different from what we're used to. But she's my closest friend. Would she really lie to me?

“Yes,” I say back but I'm not entirely sure that I'm telling the truth. 

“Then…” She slowly slides her hand off the piano and turns to me. Her deep brown eyes flash with determination. “We should work together to change this place.”

I look down. I'm the Luminous One. I'm supposed to be a prophet, yet, all my visions of Apollo are damn horny ones. I'm not out here having God-given revelations like she apparently is. I'm supposed to be the one who will apparently lead this place, but I have no knowledge like she does. Is it really me? Is she the one who is meant to be in charge?

I hesitate. I just don't have the passion like she does. 

“You wouldn't have to do much,” she adds. “If you want, you can just be the face of it. I'll do everything else behind the scenes.” 

Ah. So she wants to use my status to bypass her own unpopularity. 

“I hate to burst your bubble but I'm not popular," I say. "People say they like me because I'm the Luminous One, but they don't really. They don't like the way I dress.”

Girls are supposed to wear a dress and a veil. I wear a shirt, trousers, and keep my hair uncovered. Miranda doesn't wear the veil either but I think they've realised that is a losing battle. I catch more flack about it than she does. 

“I think you could be, Lorelei. You just have to have more confidence. “

I sigh. I don't believe her. “I'll think about it,” I say. Another lie. I genuinely hope she never brings it up again -- what wishful thinking that is. I didn't even want the whole Luminous One thing, but now that it's potentially being stolen, I suddenly am crushed by the weight of expectations upon me. 

I think of my parents. Unlike the rest of the church, I was never orphaned. When they found out a child with the ability to create light was prophesied by the Helioist Church, they sold me into an environment where my God-given gifts could flourish -- or that was the excuse anyway. I have been told that they are proud of me for what I am, yet I never see them. Would I be letting them down if I were merely to give up? Should I even care about the opinions of those who sold their own child anyway?

I change the subject. “Say, Miranda. Did you really… you know….” My cheeks go pink. She waits for me to respond. Dear God, I hope she does not make me say the word. I make a circle gesture with my hand and raise my eyebrows, begging she catches on.

“Well…” Miranda starts playing with her hair and her cheeks turn pink. “I, uh, you know…”

I scream.