Apollian

469 11 4
                                    


--------------------------------------------------------------

Ap·ol·lo·ni·an
/ˌapəˈlōnēən/
adjective
1.
GREEK MYTHOLOGY
relating to the god Apollo.
2.
relating to the rational, ordered, and self-disciplined aspects of human nature.
"The struggle between cold Apollonian categorization and Dionysiac lust and chaos"

-------------------------------------------------------------

Crooning awake in the med bays hall was not pleasant.
The smell of anti-septic and the sounds of other soldiers' soft murmurs taunted off the walls like an ill-bent symphony to the sun's rising stature as it grinned against your skin through the window..

The blankets nulled into your very flesh as its warmth blushed against the cold January air that twinged into your flesh like a sickened bell cheering in your lungs with every slow rattled breath you took.

Bleary eye peered open as you grumbled as you looked around, confused for a moment as the sleep fog blocked the pit of what had happened to you last night and grew into your bones..
Before the morning, grogginess seemed to snap out as you slowly sat up with a groan..
Muscles bumbling in an aggressive bunching and flexing beneath clothes and skin as you poked your gaze around the room.

Ghost

Seeing him awake and talking to a doctor made you glad to see a familiar face.
But concerned given the fact he was also talking to Price.
And motioning to your now awake and slight gorged frame..

What were they talking about?

You got that awnser after they contained to ignoring the fact you were awake and talked about you.
Ghost then slowly approached as Price seemed to disappear like a wraith..most likely back to the office or to train.
Or possibly deal with recruits.

All the above, perhaps..

Then..with furrowed brows and a confused look slipping its way into the glinted look in your morning gaze as you stared up at Ghost.

Expecting him to just tell you at this point as impatience linseed at your bone,  but you held your turmoiled seld together.

Between the silent stares of understanding between the two of you, Ghosts thickened Manchester accent roughened against the air like a tigers tongue against an animals hide..

"Price heard about last night. He's having Med Bay give you meds to take to ease the nightmares and let you actually sleep whilst on base...other than that..your cleared Y/- Sparrow."

He caught himself.
Knowing better than to use your real name around others..especially one place you knew you'd hate it bein used despite the  med bay team already slinking to know your closer than you are too your own sense of identity..

But Ghost was all work.
Not play.
You learned rhat the first day you trained beneath him.

And you were reminded of it now as  his voice continued like a cold taint from the godstrummed rumble of thunder out of his chest..
Not allowing you to speak or quip a chirped word into the lieutenants ear.

"Other than that.. You're with me today. Paperwork and Rookies Sparrow. Better be ready at 08:00.."

"Yes, sir.."

You pushed the words out like a dog rolling onto its back in submission.
You've learned what happens when you test Ghosts temper.

The man may be a saint to you at times.. you still knew better..

And you watched him as he practically leeched out of the room like a whisp..
Like his call-sign Ghost.

Ironic..

You  then practically lulled your legs out of the med bay bed..
And preparedy mind to be on auto-pilot the entire day.
Like an never ending pit forming in your stomach.. anxious. Like a stray and rapid dog.
A spooked bird even.

And with one deep inahle against your shuddering lungs..
You prepared yourself for the day..

Time skip: 08:00..

This career didn't really offer much to look forward to, at least not for somebody like you. 

Your job didn't come with many pleasantries; breaks were few and far between, you didn't get any festive office parties, you didn't even get the delicacy of halfway satisfying lunches.

You couldn't honestly describe yourself as 'ambitious'- nor as honest for that matter. You didn't pave your future with aspirations and goals with the same sort of precision and pride you'd seen with your peers. you didn't have a retirement plan to keep you going or a hope of returning to civilian life when you've finally been worn down to your very core.

But now here you stood, next to Ghost, arms crossed over your chest and shoulders rounded with a weeded grimace tainted against your locked jaw..
Military issued black camo pants held  up by a belt and tucked in standard issued boots.
A military issued green sweater presents against the cold, wonders as the smoked breath of the January air tilted into your lungs like dragons smoke, bellowing out of your numb and flared nostrils..

Your  e/c eyes glared at the Rookies watching them perform the drills given to them with a jittery rythm, and absolutely and painstakingly showing that this group was fresh out of basics rooks..

And as your eyes.gazed the field.. something caught it like an eye sore would..

König..


Sort of feeling you could only describe as troublesome intrigue overrode every 'rude to stare' lesson you'd been told.

The tallest, König strode with what seemed a group of KorTac soliders.. seemingly back from their own trainings..and you realized his crocodilan eyes notices your stare, and instantly, his head sharply quirks to the side as a warning.

You mimic his movements - head curiously lulling to the side, examining every sobered fiber into the surface of the mask he wore..

Only his eyes were visible from under the mask-- the sun catching on the modest wisp of his lashes-- a stark contrast from the callous ink of his eyes that bore into you. They crinkle into a mean glare as your gaze lingers.


Before he snapped his gaze away and practically stalked back to his focus of his task ahead.


A small victory on your end..
And probably pissed off the larger man in the process for the rest of the day.

Good

And your day pertained to continue at a slow burned momentum..


Like a crooked candles wick as the clocks arms dragged as the Apollian sun glared against you in the cold the  entire day..


The clocks sound pouring into your ears as you and Ghost were kept busy..

Tick..

Tick..

Tick..

Tick..

Red Is The Color Of Our Lives (And Red Is The Color Of Our Blood)Where stories live. Discover now