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Join date : 2010-11-19
Age : 44
Location : Atlantis/Tanelorn

PostSubject: Liquid flames   Sun Jan 16, 2011 1:05 am

I'm awake. It's Sunday morning, 5.30am and I'm awake. My heart is beating faster, my brain is racing and I'm awake.

I settle back into the hotel bed, trying once again to gather my thoughts. As always the dream had been vivid, real. And, as always, it already seemed to be stuck in my head.

Taking a sip of water from the glass at the side of the table I try to bring some order to my thoughts. My dreams. The eight-pointed star becoming the sun-star in a circle. The Phoenix and then the Dragon. The ritual. The blood.

My own blood seems to be trying to escape through my skin. Pulsing, seeming to take on a life of it's own. I take another sip and close my eyes. I count to three then open them again. Calmer, settled. I scan the room.

Everything is how I'd left it. I was in Tokyo, Japan, on another press junket. It had been rumoured that David was also here. Somewhere. Maybe this city, at the very least in the country.

I don't know how he felt but, for me, it was like a second home. When I was wrestling here I was enjoyed some of the best days of my life. The people, the places, the clothes, the food...traditional meets futuristic...very much like me!

I look over to my clothes and smile. Today's outfit is already layed out. Silver and red boots. Black scale trousers. A red, long sleeved under shirt. A Mandarin collered tunic top, silver but with a red circle in the middle. The circlet.

The circlet. It had been an ever present part of my outfit since I took on my mantle of House Novaar. I had found pictures of one that was supposed to be from Atlantis. I'd had mine made as an exact copy. It was my way of honouring my family.

I smile again, knowing that this outfit would get me so many strange looks back in England, in the US. Here, I pass without much of a glance. I like that. Sometimes, when I need to be away from the cameras, I come here. Not that I need to be away much. My pride demands I stay in frount of them. Lucifer in a camera lens.

That reference isn't too far off. I AM the Chosen One. The Last Prince. That much is certain. People may not have accepted that but, after the ritual, they would. They'd listen when I told them about the Quendi. About Atlantis. About my ancestors. After the ritual, they'd see.

I finally admit defeat and head over to the window. Too many thoughts in my head to sleep. Looking out I see a neon paradise, calling me, plying me with subtle promises. 'Look at us', it says. Love us, be with us.'

In the corner of my eye a neon sign flashes. It appears to be for some sort of electronics thing. The sign itself is in the shape of a phoenix. And, just like that, the dream comes into my head.

Tonight I saw the Dragon. I saw the Phoenix. I saw them both and I saw them become one. A thing of fire yet liquid like water. A cross between the two beasts. This new entity seemed old. Very old...

This wasn't there first joining, they'd said. It had happened before. Happened to Va-Rys. My ancestor hadn't been the first to accept them. It wouldn't be the last. I knew that because, come the ritual, I was planning to do the same thing.

I returned to the bed, sitting this time rather than laying. Relaxing back I saw the entity again, wrapped around the symbol. The same symbol from the pendant on my bed side table. Looking into my eyes and knowing what had to be done...

Opening my eyes, I looked at the clock again. 6am. Maybe it was time to get up. Go to the gym. Just then, I see my mobile phone has been flashing. In my daze I hadn't seen it. It seemed today had already decided to interupt me...
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Join date : 2010-10-09
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PostSubject: Re: Liquid flames   Tue Jan 25, 2011 12:58 am

Liquid Flames part 2:

It takes a few more rings than normal before he finally answers. I don’t believe for a moment that he was still asleep. Myron always seemed uncannily able to exist on the bare minimum of rest, and it isn’t unusual to see emails and texts he’d sent at all sorts of unusual hours of the night and early morning. I suspect he was away in some train of thought and didn’t notice it ringing. He’s like me in that when he concentrates on something, the building could fall down around him and he wouldn’t notice.

Certainly his voice isn’t sleepy when it comes on the line. It is guarded though.


He doesn’t recognise the number or the caller, but that’s because I’m ringing from an internal phone rather than one of my mobiles. In a business where obsessive fans can be a problem, we are all guarded when we gets calls from numbers we don’t know.

“Good Morning”

“David?” He seems surprised, and I suppose he has reason. I haven’t actually spoken to him in the better part of nine months. “Long time, no speak. I wasn’t expecting a call from you”

I’m actually a little surprised at this. With the CXA shows coming up, and given that my name has been thrown around, I would have thought it wasn’t too much of a stretch to expect me to call. Then again, I suppose recent events being what they have been… Still, I can’t resist a little tang in my voice as I reply.

“Oh, well. As you know, I often like doing things people aren’t expecting me to do”.

I’m waiting for the sharp reply, but it doesn’t come. Instead he asks why I’m calling. I explain I’d like to see him when he has an opportunity to make space in his diary – I tell him I think we ought to catch up.

He says he’d like that too, and at the other end of the telephone I can hear him reaching for his laptop and clicking keys.

“Errm, well I’m back in England in a week or so, and then the week after I’m in the US if you are still in Montana. So maybe something is possible then.”

“I was thinking of this morning”

“This morning? David I’m in…..”

“Tokyo. Yes, I know. Tell me, how’s the new decoration on the Ambassador suite – I haven’t actually seen it yet?”

I can hear the slight intake of breath. “How did you……?”

Now I’ll admit, it’s a cheap trick, and I know it annoys him, it always did. But sometimes I like doing stuff like that just to press peoples’ buttons, and his buttons in particular, because I’m one of very few people who can, and we both know it. I just like to remind him of that dynamic once in a while. Especially when I can follow it up as well as I do now.

“My-ron, for all your eccentricities, in some things you are a creature of habit. And you might remember who introduced you to that hotel on your 2nd trip to Japan?”

You’ll note that I used his new sobriquet there. I thought I’d drop it in to see if there was a reaction. There isn’t, but I believe I can hear the wry smile spread across his face at the other end of the phone.

“Ok, you got me there. But I’m packed solid after about 9:30 this morning, and…”

I interrupt him - another little button push. I believe I may even be smiling now.

“I was thinking of breakfast in about 10 minutes”

He takes only a second to process this and realise what it means.

“*sigh* You’re downstairs aren’t you, calling from an internal line?”

“Yes, well done Sherlock”

“I don’t think they’ll serve you breakfast this early, David”

Now I really smile, open goal

“Oh I think they will – its amazing how accommodating hotels will be when you own the place”.

He can’t help but chuckle down the phone. “Touché again. See you in ten”

Its actually 12 minutes later when he walks into the dining room – Myron never did have my strict adherence to punctuality – but when he does enter I’m relieved to see that, names or not, I am meeting with my old friend this morning and not the character he portrays to everyone else. Clearly I’ve given him nowhere near enough time to put on the full look, so he is dressed in his lowest key clothes; the stuff he travels in when no-one else is going to see him. Black boots – elfin style, but then that wasn’t unusual even before his latest stylings – black trousers, and a silver shirt. He’s not sporting any make-up, and the hair is held back by a pair of red-tinted sunglasses perched on his head. Its at times like this he looks every bit the music producer figure he was the last time we met face to face.

God, that was two years ago. We’ve talked on the phone since, emailed one another, sent Christmas and birthday gifts even, but is it really two years since I sat down and talked to him face to face? Since all of this started?

Anyway, the point is that I’m one of very few people who ever gets to see this Myron Fox.

As for me, I’m dressed in a black suit and a blue open collared shirt. Familiar attire, but not what I’ve been used to these last few months.

I stand up as he walks up to me, and offer my hand, which he shakes without pause. Both our smiles are genuine, but I can’t resist a comment.

“Good of you to agree to join me your highness – I know how trying the life of royalty can be”.

He sits in the chair and leans back, making an exaggerated beckoning motion with his hands.

“Oooook…let’s get them out of the way. I know you. I know what’s coming. I knew you wouldn’t be able to miss an opportunity to rib me on the royalty bit. I’m about to get a blast from your wit that would put Oscar Wilde to shame! I A lashing from your acerbic tongue. So lets get it over with before you sour the orange juice. Fish Prince, aquariums, Captain Birdseye, let them roll”

I sit myself down and hold up a defensive hand

“No, that was it. I just wanted to get one in, make the point. Remember, I did send you the athame…”

I can tell by the change in his eyes that he’d been wanting to ask me about that. Sure enough

“Yes, now where the hell did you come across that? It’s not something you find easily on e-bay…believe me, I’ve looked!”

“My friend, as you know, I have all sorts of contacts. But I find its sometimes best just to let them work and not to ask too many questions”

He gets the message that that was also a suggestion for his benefit. He’d like to ask more, but at that moment a waiter arrives and asks if he can get Myron anything. He orders a typical Japanese restaurant breakfast - miso soup, rice with nori, nattō, rice porridge, grilled fish, raw egg, and a pickled vegetable. The waiter disappears silently. I know from my own experience that a traditional Japanese breakfast is based on rice, seafood, and fermented foods, which do not differ substantially from dishes eaten at other meals in Japanese cuisine. In fact, I’ve ordered similarly myself. Myron takes a small sip from a glass of water and its clear he’s trying to pace the conversation and think how to approach the next subject without offending me. I decide to spare his blushes.

“I suppose you want to know what happened to me last year?”

He’s not shocked that I’ve been so direct in diving into the conversation – he’s known me too long, but he’s still choosing his words carefully.

“Yes, and what’s happened since you have been back. I heard about McIntyre and Higgins”

“I thought you’d be pleased where Higgins was concerned. You never exactly hit it off”

“That’s as maybe, but as you reminded me on several occasions, you didn’t care whether I liked him or not…he was good at his job”

I lean back in my seat, taking a sip from a cup of coffee “So you think I made a mistake in firing him?”

He knows what I’m doing here. He’s had enough verbal jousts with me to know that I am about to start trying to boss the conversation by deflecting him with questions. He isn’t about to let me get away with that.

“You’re going to have to give me more to go on before I make that sort of decision…”

“My-ron, two years ago you looked at me in a conference room in New York and you told me I was a shadow of myself. That I had become soft and weak and that I needed to look at myself and decide what I wanted in my life.”

He goes to interrupt at this point, no doubt to try to pacify in case I’m about to turn this into an argument. Because I’m not, I raise my hand to subdue his protest”

“No, don’t worry my friend. I knew your words were true because I was telling you the same thing. Now we have been on very different paths since then, and even ended up at different destinations, but we both went on the same journey.

I spent those two years evaluating everything I’ve done in my life. And just like you realised what you needed to do, so did I. I needed to wind the clock back. I don’t mean in some mid-life crisis recapturing my youth sort of way, I mean in the energy and the passion I once had. The thing that drove me in the first place. I realised that I was relying on too many other people. I had someone else protecting my family, I had someone else running my business, and I’d sat back and let it happen. I’d taken the easy option and settled for the easy life, and in doing so I’d forgotten what had allowed me to get to that point. I’d forgotten that I had to fight and struggle for my success. Yes I was born into privilege, but that doesn’t mean I had it easy. You know I had to fight my father for everything good in my life, and it was my anger at him, my determination to prove him wrong that allowed me to succeed. The anger and resentment then wasn’t negative; it was a positive driving force in my life. It didn’t enslave me to some dark future, it empowered me to escape from it. And what I came to realise the more I looked at it was that was what was missing now - that anger. It was the anger that kept me sharp. The anger that helped me feel alive because it drove me to achieve. But now I’d become complacent, content with my lot, I had no-one to be angry with anymore”

He’s listened carefully to all of this. If there is anyone on this planet who knows about my anger, its Myron Fox. He’s benefitted from it, and been a victim of it, in near equal measure. He’s cautious in his words now, and I can perfectly understand why that is.

“David…this might sound a little bit hypocritical, given what I said last time, but we both know you’ve had problems with anger before. When you’ve allowed it to rise to surface. So what’s different now?”

“The difference is that I realised the other mistake I had been making. I’d literally been throwing the baby out with the bathwater before. You’re right that my anger has been destructive at times, but in trying to control it, I’d thought the only way I could accomplish control was to eliminate it completely; to turn my back on it. I thought I had to put it all in a compartment and look it away inside myself. I knew I couldn’t be rid of that side of my personality, but I thought I had to keep it in chains and suppress it - punish myself. I couldn’t have been more wrong. When I spoke to you in New York, I told you you had to be true to yourself and realise who you really were. I needed to listen to my own advice. Like I said, the anger of my youth wasn’t destructive, it helped, it didn’t hinder. I just think that when things got bad I saw it as a screen to hide behind. I’m not saying that the Reaper was a character – we both know that isn’t true – but I saw that side of me something I could box up and put aside, and that was wrong. It was like cutting my arm off because I didn’t like a tattoo. I realized that who I really am isn’t the nice guy, the content benevolent family man, celebrity and author. Or at least, he isn’t just them. Oh I can be all of those things at times, they are all part of me, but I also need to be who else I really am - the predator; the guy who likes a fight. In short, who I really am is someone who needs to get angry on occasion.”

He doesn’t look surprised by my words - why should he, as I say, he’s been around me long enough to know the truth - but he does look slightly concerned.

“Have you explained this to Rachel?”

“Yes, or at least I’ve tried. I’m not sure she can really understand it fully. I’m not sure anyone - with the possible exception of the man across the table from me - can fully understand it. But before you ask, things are absolutely fine between us, don’t worry. And between Luke and me as well”

He takes another sip of water, scowling a little.

“You leaving them for 3 months hit them hard you know”

“I know. But I couldn’t do what I needed to do with them around. I needed to go to places where I could reconnect with that anger again, where I could find that side to my character. I needed to see things, and I needed to do things, which they didn’t need to be a part of”

“No, bar fights in Yellowknife are no place for your family…”

He’s said this casually, but by the way his eyes have locked on me as he’s done so, we both know what’s behind the statement. He knows what happened up there.

Sometimes I forget just how much he has picked up from me over the years - outside the ring every bit as much as in it. I’d like to say I manage to retain a poker face and give nothing away. Had it been anyone else, I probably could say it and it would be the truth. But its much harder to lie to a friend, and I can feel my eyes widen involuntarily. I replace the coffee cup on the table.

“My turn to say touche, I think?”

He just shrugs, maybe.

“I’m surprised you didn’t speak to Rachel, tell here where I was”

“No…you’re not. I didn’t like the fact that I wasn’t able to tell them where you’d gone. To put their minds at rest…well, not so much that but at least let them know you were OK. You know me…I can talk the hind of rhino when I get going bit lies don’t come naturally to me. I don’t like them, for good or for ill. But when I’d heard you’d gone I knew you must have your reasons. I knew there was more to it than meets the eye. So I though I owed it to you to keep my mouth shut. Just…”

He tails off, prompting me to ask “Just what?”

“Just be careful…”

“The times of being careful have gone my friend. Now its the time to be bold again. You asked what happened with McIntyre and Higgins? Well they were both symbols of the grey complacency I had allowed myself to sink into. I had a lawyer, a mouthpiece with a sharp suit, making decisions about my company, handling my affairs – and screwing it royally as he went along, and I allowed that mediocrity for two years. I allowed the mutual backslapping of my senior managers in their mutual admiration society as they wallowed in the mire of their inadequacies.”

“Nero fiddled as Rome burnt?”

“Quite, though thankfully they never got as far as opening the box of matches. But I can’t believe I allowed things to go that far. I allowed them to not care who they were working for. Can you believe that? They didn’t care that they working for me. I intend for that to never be the case again. Now its time to remind people just who they are dealing with.”

My tone has become sharper as I’ve gone through that description, and he’s noticed. I relax now and allow a smile to spread across my face as I lean back in the chair

“But look who I am lecturing to on that score - a man who has done little else in the last few weeks but remind the world who he is”

He knows I am deliberately diverting the conversation, but he’s letting it be diverted - possibly because we are on to his favourite topic, himself. He sits back in his own chair, and now some of the swagger returns to his actions. Clearly he’s expecting some criticism.

“Here we go. The bit I knew was coming…You don’t approve”

“I didn’t say that, now did I?”


He gathers himself, a fire burning behind his eyes. The fire that I always see when he’s passionate about something.

“You have to understand what this means to me. That this isn’t some gimmick I’ve just come up with to sell a few more t-shirts. You know me better than that.”

“We know each other far better than we probably should!”

“That’s the truth. You mentioned going away from our last meeting and looking at yourself. I did just that. I wondered where I was, where I was going. Where I’d been. I needed to know why…what held it all together. So I started looking into it. The more I dug into it, the more I found. The further back I went. I was discovering my heritage, David.”

His eyes are burning. I can see just how much this means to him.

“I’ve seen the promos.”

I leave it at that, passing no comment on the content. He knows that I’ll have made up my own mind about they mean.

“And then, of course, there are the dreams…”

There. I spot it in the corner of his eye and it surprises me. I can see a spark, just a tiny one, of doubt. Of worry. A crack in the mask. This is interesting. Its unusual for him to have doubts about himself like this

“The dreams? What sort of dreams?”

“Oh forget it, its nothing really. “

“My-Ron…I know something is worrying you…”

“It’s nothing. Just shadows and ghosts”

He’s dismissive, but not in a way which genuinely makes me think he doesn’t think its important. More like he’s genuinely worried and wants to avoid talking about it. Of course this means I need to ask about it all the more.

“You like shadows and ghosts. Come on, tell me me what’s going on.”

He lets out a long sigh and then leans forward across the table, like he doesn’t want anyone else to hear him.

“These dreams…well they are more like visions than dreams. I know that somehow they are connected to all of this; to my journey, but I can’t see how. I keep seeing three elements in particular repeating”

“What three?”

“A dragon, a phoenix, and blood.” He rocks back in the chair, clearly exasperated “I.......I don’t know what they mean”

Should I tell him? On the one hand, I owe it to him to tell him what I think they could be. On the other hand, I could be wide of the mark myself, and even if I do think My-ron needs to complete this journey, I’m not sure I want to encourage some of the more out there elements.

In the end, I decide I need to be honest with him.

“I think I have an idea what they might symbolise”

Now its his turn for eye-widening. “What?”

“You said a dragon, a phoenix, blood? Well, think about what we were talking about earlier. You said that my anger had been a destructive force before, and it has, especially in your direction?”

“Yes, but...”

“How did I used to describe that anger? As feeling like a sleeping dragon in my stomach ready to erupt at any time. I said the Reaper was like a dragon that consumed me in its flames. I think the dragon in your visions symbolises your relationship with me. The good and the bad, all of which has brought you to this point. But things in dreams rarely just mean one thing. I think the dragon also symbolises power - old power, ancient power. If you’re right about your background, the concept of ancient power seems to fit”

He thinks for a moment, clearly taking this all in

“And the phoenix?”

“Could be one of two things. Just as your path to this point included me, it also included my brother. Now what was Matthew’s original ring name when we broke him into the business?”

It hits him like a smack in the face. He visible recoils “Fireball - the Flaming Phoenix!!”

“Exactly. So I think in part, the phoenix may symbolise him as well. But I think its more than that. The phoenix is recovery from the most severe of trials, leading to new beginnings. Facing the flames and rising again. I think it symbolises the trials and tribulations which you have had to go through to reach this point in your life, and the fact that you can start again anew”

I can tell by the look in his eyes and the way his fingers are drumming on the table that his mind is racing. I don’t wait for him to ask.

“The blood could have many meanings. Did you consider that it was the bond of our blood that tied your life so closely to mine and has brought you through those trials, those dark times, and those realisations that have got you to this point? And if the dragon in all this does link to me, did you also consider the parallels between that exchange of blood and your ancient rituals?”

He sits there, silent, but clearly taking in every word that I’ve said. I look at his eyes again. For that tell that I saw earlier. He sees me doing it and drops his shades over his eyes.

“Late night. Man, these mornings are getting brighter.”

Flippant but I let it go. I can tell I’ve given him plenty to think about. For now, I’ll leave it at that. The waiter arrives with our breakfasts and now we just eat as two old friends. Further analysis can wait.


ooc: Co-writing credit here to Myron. Collaborative effort.

I'm not climbing to the top of the mountain. I am the damn mountain!
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