Rise Of Pandora

Rise Of Pandora : XLI. In This Time Of Crisis

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XIV. Foreigner

His presence was introduced before even he himself was seen. His face, which was a robustly defined labyrinth of prominently accentuated and chiseled curves, grooves, and edges, spoke a crude and humbling dialect. The two were as children looking upon the stern face of their father. He was wrapped in a ruffled, silky, white robe which encompassed most of his body from his shoulders to his toes. The robe had a twist which was tied firmly at the waist. He stood barefoot upon the floor. 

He was a near monument, his features aesthetic and honed, with the only noticeable flaw being a superficial scar that was isolated between his eyebrows. He was like the violet sun, welcoming these two celestial bodies to share in and embrace his warmth.

But Gaijin did not take too much notice of the man who stood loudly in front of them in particular. Instead, his attention was aimed at the room which skulked behind him. It was now dark but the light from the hallway illumined some of its darkly defined attributes. Along the floor were candles, and although they were no longer burning, traces of smoke still rose from a few of them. 

As he stared into the room, the unease, which Alastor tried to subside, reunited powerfully with Gaijin. His eyes scattered across the dimly lit room. Gaijin's heart, too, felt the pressure. But, after seconds of gazing around, Gaijin soon became relatively relaxed; although he was still uncomfortable and jumpy. 

He loudly inquired aloud, "Who was that in there!"

Alastor, with a face so vexed and confused, looked to Atlas.

He spoke smoothly, "Alastor, leave us. Please. Tell the others I will arrive in soon time."

Alastor wanted to stay but he soon found himself walking away, fading into the distance of the domain. Now there stood Atlas who extended his hand to Gaijin, who was sat down on the floor. Gaijin did not take his hand. Instead, he stood up on his own. Atlas read his expression well, examining the genuine fear on the Gaijin's face. 

I. Stoic

Atlas stood there impressed by Gaijin's appearance. A wide but gentle smirk dictated his mood. He began to laugh gently at himself. 

Here he was. Father. Atlas. The hidden and true leader of the Rare Men. Here he was.

Gaijin was surprised. He truly was elegant. He was a visage meant to be beheld by pious eyes. His hair was a long, dark purple bevy of thick curls and spirals. Dark violet facial hair clung mightily to his strong face like grass growing from the richest soil. Though Gaijin was of formidable height, Atlas' form seemed to tower effortlessly above him. 

Looking at Gaijin, he spoke serenely, "I'm sorry you had to see that, Gaijin. That was an unlikely companion of mine. But, he's no longer here now so if it is comfortable with you, I would like to speak with you inside since you are now here. "

Gaijin heard him, but his attention was still stuck on who he saw in that room. He saw eyes which possessed a heart-rending glow in them, eyes that only knew pain and hatred staring possessively into him. 

"Who was he?" Gaijin asked frantically. 

"It seems our talk has begun. Enter with me. I will leave both doors open if it will make you feel more comfortable. You are our valued guest, your safety and comfortability are our duty," His voice possessed a sharp and persuasive tone. 

Prometheus urged Gaijin to agree to the invitation. After almost three seconds of unresponsiveness, Gaijin finally conceded. He still looked around the room with caution.