The God's Game

Doing God's work.

"You are in my sun," Wolfram chided,tapping on the Southern King with his fan. "move!"

Raven Alistair,leaning against the ship's railing,shot a glance over his shoulder.

"You are in my ship," he grumbled, his voice raspy from sleepiness. "Get lost"

Well,someone's face could curdle milk this morning.

"It looks like someone got off the wrong side of his bed," Wolfram grinned toothily at the grumpy man. "and stayed there."

Shut up, Sir Sunshine. You are no better.

River discreetly averted his gaze from the indecent sight of Raven's exposed torso. It was obvious that he had just gotten out of bed. His black overcoat, unbuttoned and fluttering in the wind, gave him the air of a large,brooding bat perched on the ship's rail.

He brushed back his disheveled hair and glared daggers at the younger man,as if his early appearance had irreparably tainted his day.

"Good morning,My Lord," River interjected with courtesy, hoping to diffuse the tension before another spectacular bicker ballet ensued.

"It was good before he showed up." He nodded at Wolfram. "What are you two doing up before the roosters, anyway?"

It was indeed an ungodly hour to be awake. The world was still rubbing its eyes, and the horizon was a tapestry of deep, muted purples, blues, and grays. Faint hints of orange and pink were beginning to adorn the gloomy skies. River could still see stars twinkling overhead,reluctant to yield to the impending dawn.

The ocean was serene,mirroring the sky above,creating a hypnotizing blend of hues. The world felt hushed around them, except for the gentle whisper of waves lapping over the wooden hull.

Yes, they were up early, but so was he.

Wolfram draped my arm around River's shoulder and pulled him close. "This sweetheart here wants to see the dawn over the horizon, and I'm accompanying him."

Raven's one eye darted between the two of them. "Aren't you getting a bit too chummy with this bastard?"

The question was pointed to River, who was writhing to slip away from Wolfram's vice-like grip.

"We've been way chummier," Wolfram wriggled his brows and Raven's clutch on the rusty metal beam tightened.

"So chummy, you almost sent his fucking head rolling," Raven snickered.

"I did not!" Wolfram gasped,offended. "Did I,Riv?"

"You fucking lied to him!"

"That-yeah,that I did," Wolfram giggled sheepishly.

Caught between the sparks flying between two men,River sighed,exasperated. He had plotted his scheme down to the last detail. Still, unexpectedly, this personification of a headache had chosen this very day to wake up early instead of sleeping in till evening tea, like he usually does.

To his immense frustration, the target of his grand plot was late to show up at the scene!

It must be divine irony: I pray for luck, and God sends me a curveball.

Waking Wolfram up had been harder than awakening a dead cow. River slapped him, yanked his covers off, splashed water on him, and tickled him, but nothing worked.

So River resorted to smothering him with a pillow.

"Oh, you are not dead," River commented dryly once he jolted up, gagging for air.

"I'm not," Wolfram coughed. "Were you trying to change that?"

"Get dressed," River ordered as he crawled out of bed.