Young Writers Society

Forrest

Forrest's black eyes narrowed as he watched participants make their way through the Grande Hall. Nothing seemed real, none of it. He was guarding Georgia with his life, a hand placed around her hip as men and women alike grinned at them with animosity. He snarled, and the onlookers turned away with nothing but a flick of their necks.

He wasn't the type to get jealous, not at all. In fact, he was happy for Georgia. Being here, competing for the title of Olympus' Champion... it' was a great way to get your name out there. Only thing was, Forrest didn't want that for himself. He was already famous; everyone knew his name around Olympus and in the Underworld alike. The last thing he needed was more attention, more people judging his every move. Forrest had seen enough judging from his father.

A small, miserable looking guard approached the couple, and Forrest tilted his head down to meet the little-man's gaze, "Can I help you?" Forrest's voice was that of rainwater and amethyst.

Georgia just stayed still, watching the man with her baby-blue eyes, "Your Mentors are waiting for you. I'm sorry to break up..." the man glanced at Forrest's hand placement, "whatever this is, but we need to get you both situated and assigned to a mentor as soon as possible. Men are not allowed in the female's quarters, unfortunately."

Forrest snarled again, this time rolling his eyes in the process. He said nothing but kissed Georgia on the top of the head, breathing in the smell of her perfume once last time before he parted ways with her.

Georgia and Forrest, at this point, have been together for about a year-- maybe more. Forrest stopped keeping count once they stopped celebrating the months, but he wasn't one for corny celebrations, anyway. He'd rather celebrate the big moments like marriage, or birthdays. The thing about Olympus, is that people usually have arranged marriages. Forrest was lucky enough to find a female as driven and successful as Georgia, especially with all the fake love going around.

The hallway to the men's side of the Grande Hall was dark and gloomy, just how Forrest liked it. Candles dripping in hot wax lined each wall, followed by burgundy wallpaper. With each step Forrest took, the marble clicked beneath his boots, creating a melody similar to a wise-man's song. They reached the end of the hallway and the guard lifted his arm to unlock the door. It was then when Forrest noticed the locket around the man's wrist-- a lightning bolt. A symbol of his undeniable allegiance to Zeus: the God of Thunder, he supposed.

Forrest's eyes widened when the door creaked open, and he allowed himself to breathe in the luxury that the Grand Hall had to offer. Gold-- everything was gold.

Gods, I could stay here forever.

From the gold desk, to the gold markings in the frame of the fireplace that crackled like a million fireflies during the midnight moon... everything was gold. And he loved it. Forrest had always possessed the ability to conjure precious elements and stones from the core of the planet. From diamonds, to gold, to silver, to malachite-- Forrest was familiar with them all. But, out of all of them, gold was his favorite.

Gold, the symbol of man and power, the precious metal that made men and women alike drop to their knees and beg for riches. Forrest had a lot of it.

He dropped his heavy, black duffle bag on the marbled floor and studied the veiny lines in each little square. After running a hand through his messy black hair, he fell back onto the bed and awaited the knock on his door by his Mentor.