Young Writers Society

The music carried on, and with it, their steps. Damascus found himself having trouble catching his breath. It was difficult for him to tell whether this was due to the incessant pace of the tango, being unable to predict Boris' movements, or both.

There was a gleam in Boris' eyes and a new purpose to his dancing that Damascus simply couldn't decipher. The way he had not only taken effortlessly to learning the steps but also added new elements to it made it hard for him to think, and it took him a bit to gather his thoughts enough to make a simple comment.

"I told you you'd pick it up." He said smoothly, betraying none of the slow feverishness that had started to take him over.

He guided their light steps into more of a sliding, loping ordeal, holding Boris' waist in support as they sank to the floor and came up again fluidly.

With this new development, a crescendo grew in the music, and Damascus took it as a calling. He moved his hand down to Boris' thigh and pulled it over his hip, melding them into a close-fitting dip.

Catching and holding Boris' eyes for a moment, Damascus struggled once again to do something as simple as breathe. Involuntarily, his eyes moved down towards his partner's inviting mouth. A little breath of air escaped his own lips, and then he was pulling Boris back up, ending the pang of self-awareness almost before it had begun.

His mind swirled with the fever of it all, and he twirled Boris under his arm for the sole purpose of giving himself room to think.

If dancing was a language in and of itself... what exactly was being said?

Taber looked away. "Uh, not really?" he said, before perking back up. "But we could figure it out!"

James watched with increasing disapproval as Lorcan rudely stared, but concealed it with a lighthearted smile.

"Let's see if you can guess how old I am, then."

Damascus sank me to the floor, and although our bodies arose, my mind remained there.

Surely he knew exactly what he was doing.

People danced with each other all the time, it was a natural thing, but nobody did the things he did without ulterior purpose, if anyone ever ascended to his sublime heights by accident, it would inevitably fall into design.

This gliding, loping section marked the end of pretenses to resistance, the end of any resemblance of denial.
Damascus, the innocent, the earnest, the clever, underhanded bastard, he would not cease inventing new ways to steal my coherency at every turn.

That was what I got for teasing him, I suppose.
It was all I could do not to tell him 'You've won, you've won.' Hell, maybe I would yet.

I almost asked him what he was doing, but he stilled my breath with another dip. The sly rogue, with his damned artful timing, he knew.

Surely he knew what he was doing. Surely Damascus knew exactly what he was doing, and this ambiguity was his way of playing with me.

Somehow, despite the ache, I could not find it in me to take it personally.

Damascus pulled back a bit, needing desperately to slow his heart rate. With quick and deliberate movements, he continued to twist his steps in time with Boris', and settled with moving them in simple revolutions.

His gaze was constantly drawn to Boris', and his racked his brain for anything that would provide relief from the resulting lure.

"A riddle..." he broke the loaded silence softly, leaning closer to be heard. Something caught in his throat, and he cleared it gently before continuing.

"You had mentioned before that you were dedicated to solving a riddle. Have you figured it out yet?" He dregged up a faint, blurry memory that he barely knew the context to. Something that had been mentioned during their time in the bar, most likely.

Kartiel's smile grew just a bit more. "Yes, we can. I'm guessing you want me to lead?"


Lorcan turned his attention away from Maahes and to James instead. He stared at him from behind his mask, desperately trying to figure out how old he was. He didn't want to be rude by not answering the question, but he couldn't read a human's age as well as a bat. Even Hero didn't really help with that - he was just as terrible at it, and gods didn't exactly age in the same way that humans like Charlotte did.

"Uh..." Lorcan awkwardly trailed off, looking James over. His gaze lingered on his face. That would have been the best indicator, but it was covered in a mask and facial hair. "You're...around sixty?"

Second shook his head from beside him, having finally turned his attention to the conversation instead of Asteri. "He's somewhere between fifty and sixty," Second confidently said. "He doesn't have any gray hairs."

Asteri crossed his arms and took a step forward, looking James over as well.

"He's barely fifty," the demon decided. "I say closer to forty-five."

Maahes glanced over at James. "James is only..." He paused, frowning. Lorcan guessed he didn't have a clue. "...in his thirties?"

Mira stared, incredulous, at the group around her. "He's in his twenties," she said. It sounded suspiciously like she was trying to hold back laughter. "And it would be on the earlier side."

I was woken from my reverie by a simple, sober question. It saddened me, to remember the duty that this time, I was thankful to leave behind me.

"Oh. You remember that? No, I haven't. I'm far closer now than when we met last, but I'm afraid I've no real way of knowing how far I am until I'm there." I told him between slides, cursing the traitorous hints of gloom that escaped my defenses.

"Currently, I'm courting the favour of some academics who likely can help. It's the most straightforward lead I've had, and I'm grateful. But I want it to be over."

I knew that my vague answers would only ignite Damascus' curiosity further, and that I could not hide behind this dance forever. At some point or another, I would have to elaborate.

I frowned. Something wasn't right.

Through my apprehension, sirens were calling me to the rocks of hope again. I wanted to tell him everything.
In that moment, I basked in the desire to be honest, and made believe that I would still feel that way when the time came for it.

I looked back up at Damascus, and smiled brightly.

"Once it's over...I hope we meet again. If I could have it my way, you'd be the first I'd tell.

But let's talk about you. Where you've been.

If you...have breath to spare." I teased.

Damascus slowed Boris to a sway as he received a vague sort of answer. Picking up on the hesitation, a brief pang of guilt struck him. Maybe he shouldn't have mentioned something that Boris so obviously wanted relief from. Their time was better spent without clinging memories of tribulations.

He smiled sadly, pushing down the need to desperately affirm Boris' implied hope. He wished dearly that he could see any of his brothers just one time more, and that was something he would always wish.

"I'd like that." He settled on saying. The hoarseness of his own voice served to pull him back from his helpless thoughts.

With a small smirk and a raise of his eyebrows, he desperately snatched at an opportunity to lighten the mood.

"I fear my pastimes lately have all been dull- I'd rather save my breath for more exciting things."

Picking up the pace again, as if to demonstrate, he turned sharply.

"But, if you must know" he smiled in faux surrender, "I've been here and there, discovering this and that."

Damascus wasn't being quite fair, and he knew that. He simply sympathized all to well with Boris' vagueness. He couldn't seem to leave his responses as they were.

"One of these days, I'll tell you everything I've been up to." He added softly, if only to satisfy his guilt. "It is quite the list."

With this promise, he picked up Boris' hand, grabbing his waist and pulling him closer once more as he dove back into the tango.

The moment Lorcan pegged him as sixty he knew the devolution of guesses would be a train wreck. Of course, he couldn't exactly blame them - clearly they had a very different understanding of time and aging, not being human and/or being from completely different realities or worlds, but needless to say, it was... hilarious.

He kept a straight face, but his eyes shone with amusement beneath his mask. Even Maahes seemed at a loss, though his guess was the closest until it came to Mira. He couldn't help but smirk at Maahes's best attempt at guessing, but also at the fact that his question had worked: it seemed to distract everyone from Maahes's age and gawking at it, if, for the moment.

He reached over to Lorcan and patted him on the arm, looking over to Mira.

"No, no, I like the idea of being sixty much more. Makes me sound wiser," he said with a grin growing into a smile. "Though it is-" he looked back to Lorcan, meeting his eyes. "-very wrong."

He turned to Maahes, and nudged Maahes in the side with his elbow. "You were very close though. Good guess."

While James was excellent at keeping a straight face, Vala couldn't. It was so bad that a snicker managed to escape her - though she made sure not to let it devolve into an endless stream of laughter. Maahes looked a little bit embarrassed at not being able to guess James's age correctly, but Lorcan looked absolutely mortified. His face had gone through several increasingly darker shades of red in the time since he had realized how wrong he had been, and now he desperately looked like he wanted to be somewhere far from the conversation.

Asteri and Second, on the other hand, looked completely unfazed by how off their guesses had been, while Mira had a smug expression on her face.

Seeing that Lorcan was thoroughly embarrassed, Vala decided that her wonderful friend Maahes was the next best target. She also nudged him with her elbow, and then added in a sly smile for good measure. "How old do you think I am, then, Maahes?"

The blush on Maahes's cheeks darkened. "I'm not going to guess, Vala," he replied. He muttered something under his breath, but it was too quiet for her to pick up on it.

"What was that?" she asked, holding up a hand to her ear.

Maahes looked even more awkward. "I don't want to offend you if I'm wrong," he said, the words still a mumbled mess but slightly louder.

"So you're okay with offending James, then?" Vala asked.

"Vala," Maahes whispered, but he didn't argue anymore. He shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other, then hesitantly guessed, "Late twenties to early thirties?"

She grinned. "You got it!"

Maahes let out a relieved sigh.

"I’m sure the masks don’t make guessing any easier,” James added with a small grin, still looking at Maahes in a teasing manner. “So in all fairness, you’re doing quite well. But you should know that I am 23, at least, as of now. The next time we see each other that’s likely to change unpredictably.”

I wasn't really sure what I had expected. I was grateful that Damascus did not press the matter, but it did surprise me to hear evasive placations coming from him.

I supposed it made sense. He may have been an open book when last we met, but he had been as hopelessly drunk as I was. Come to think of it, when he was still sober, he'd been almost as guarded as I was, too.

I supposed that was fair. Every man was entitled to his secrets, and Damascus had had a long life to make them in. Not to mention, in a lifespan not remotely comparable to his, I'd abused that right a thousand times over.

How could I dare to crave his truth so urgently as I did?

To crave the promise of knowing him?

The answer was I did dare, and I would continue to, even if my heart were hypocrite.

No, not now. There would be plenty of time for self deprecating philosophy later. We only had so much time, and for both our sakes, I would spend it as though the world were ours.

"Don't forget what you said, I'm going to hold you to it." I told Damascus, when I just so happened to be leaning into him again. Can't imagine how that came about.

"The first thing I'll ask you is where you learned to dance like this," I purred.

"Absolutely!" Taber said. "But, uh, you won't have any problems, right? I'm told I'm kinda big, but I don't really feel like that's right?"

Maahes's face continued to stay red, and he couldn't even bring himself to meet James's eyes.

Lorcan was having the exact same predicament. Second was trying to distract him, but it was nearly impossible to get his mind off of it - how could he have been so wrong? He hung out with Charlotte, Kartiel and Juniper all the time, and they weren't that much younger than James was. He should have been able to figure that out!


Kartiel shook his head. "You are a little larger," he admitted, "but I should be fine. Being a god has its perks."

"That's assuming I make it much further," James added with a small shrug. "Realistically, if things keep going the way they are, my life expectancy levels off around late 20's. If nothing changes. That's not to sound cyncial, though. That's just my reality."