Ramparte and Mussél climbed higher and higher over the rocky terrain of the mountain. Gusts of wind blew into their faces, urging them to go back where they came from. But Ramparte was determined to learn the ways of the monks. He was determined to be intune with his partner.
Step after step of cold and cracked marble led them closer to the walled-up fortification on the horizon. Cane struck the white rocks over and over again until his stamina gave out and his legs buckled. Resting, Ramparte sat upon the steps; sweat clinging to his blonde hair.
Still fresh from the climbing, Mussél reached for the canteen he strapped to his hip and offered it to The Man In White. He waved it off.[/INDENT]
"Pain is weakness leaving the body."
The very words I live by. Let's get to that monastery you've been going on about then, bud.
Offering his hand, Ramparte accepted it and was pulled back up. Cerberus trekked on- nearing the holy place as the sun descended to twilight. The ground before them had changed from the ghostly sight of marble to the even more evanescent waves of the gneiss rock. The haunting layers of gray, white, and then solid black paved their way in striped composition. The stairway ended and they came upon a clearing of solid gneiss.
Clergymen sat cross-legged on the tile, deep in meditation. A soft humming noise emanated from the pious people.
Uh, Ramparte...
Flex walked across the banded floor, examining the clergy and what they were wearing.
I don't think this is a monastery...
Ramparte tucked the cane underneath his arm and looked long and hard at the ones deep in trance. They all wore matching white gowns. The Catalyst did not feel out of place here with his own attire.
Maybe, maybe not. But they are religious, wouldn't you agree?
I don't know, Rambro. This all seems kinda culty.
Is there a difference?
Before his muscular partner could respond, a woman's voice called out for them.
She was roughly in her forties with dark auburn hair and pale grey eyes. Pleasantly shaped for her age, her ceremonial garb was of brightest ivory compared to her followers on the ground. An intricate pattern of red Celtic knot-work crept up passed her sleeves and down to the hems of the skirt and enveloped around her. Giving them a knowing look, she spoke up again with a grin playing against her lips.
What is it you Men of The Ebony seek?
Breathing in the sacred compound's air, Ramparte spoke aloud to the Cult Leader and her followers.
You see before you no black, woman. See how I've adorned myself in white?
He extended his arms and turned himself around for her, giving her a view. With a wink, he went on.
I am a white knight riding a dark horse. I am the brilliance of the sun and the might of its very rays. There is none who cherish white as I do.
You are no Man of Ivory.
Shot down, Ramparte grudgingly stepped back. The Cult Leader stepped forward though, reaching out to hold his face with a hand. Reluctant but curious on where this was going, The Man in White let her.
There's obsidian in your heart, false prophet. Something has a hold of you. No, somethings. I do see the finest alabaster deep within. But it is covered in thick oil...
We did not come for riddles.
At that moment, his partner chipped in.
Exactly! We wish to learn your ways in order to better ourselves, madame. You see that my friend here is in urgent need, and I too wish to be this Man of Ivory you talk about.
Not letting go of Ramparte's face, and seeming to ignore The Healthiest Man Alive, the woman peered into his eyes once more. The Catalyst met her gaze head on this time, wondering what she could possibly find out about him.
I see fire.
As part of our rituals, Men and Women of Ivory must pass a test of strength...
Flex perked up instantaneously.
...strength from fire, for The Worshipers of White must make peace with the flames in order to keep the darkness at bay. Follow me.
Cerberus let the Cult Leader guide them across the wavy rock towards a hidden trench off of the seeable path. There, several other White Worshipers were in their inaudible hymns and some were sitting on the ground as well.
Flex whispered to Ramparte.
Whatever happens here man, you know I have your back and you can trust me, right? We're in this together. I won't let anything bad happen to you in our TLC Match, and I won't let anything bad happen to you here.
We are the whispers in the classroom, Mussél. We are those phantoms in the hallway. If you protect my beautiful face, then I will protect your dietary needs. Trust me as I you, and Cerberus can take down a monk and a model on the road towards dragons.
Hot coals littered the ground in front of them. The Cult Leader stood adjacent to them and began a sermon.
Bright the day, blight the night.
Her congregation echoed her word for word in reverence.
Lord of snow, Lady of clouds...I present to you two Men of Ebony who wish to purge themselves of the wicked taint of obsidian and dusk...
Disciples of Grey, present your names to the fires of our Lord and Lady.
Flex Mussél!
Godfrey Ramparte...
...Ray Roading.
Ramparte shook off the whisper in his ear. Now was not the time for angels and voices.
Our Parents of Purest Ivory bequeath to you, Flex Mussél, and to you, Godfrey Ramparte, to step up and take from the pit. One at a time.
The Catalyst walked over first. Gazing down into the fiery coals, he slowly removed the driving glove on his right hand. His hand bared severe burns and The Cult Leader could not help but to be in awe.
The Lord and Lady must have blessed you in years passed.
The Man In White clenched his teeth, not wanting to bring up dead memories and discuss his disfigurement any further than it already has been.
So it would seem.
With that, Ramparte jerked his hand into the coals and let out a yelp of pain. Pulling one out, he held it within his palm and raised it into the air.
Do you pledge servitude to the Worship of White?
Yeah.
Will you be a star in the night when the moon is away?
The heat began to throb within his hand now as he lied some more.
Yes.
Will you light the path for others to be guided out of the dark?
Y-yes.
Return the coal with the others. You are now a true Man of Ivory.
Relief flooded The Catalyst as he dropped it and stepped away from the insane ritual the woman led. Fastening his glove back on, he gave Flex a half-assed encouraging smile.
Surprise and then jealousy filled him inside as he watched his partner and close friend go through the ritual without a hitch. Once completely done, Ramparte pulled him aside and asked him how he managed it without showing the slightest bit of pain.
Flex shrugged it off.
I've trained in harder conditions than holding some warm rock, Ramdude. One day I'll tell ya what I had to do in Taipei.
Respect and envy crept through Ramparte as they were led towards the compound. The Cult Leader talked as they walked.
Now comes the time of meditation, my spiritually-guided brothers. I urge you to go into The Room. Once again, one at a time.
..The Room?
A small enclosed space our first acolytes discover what comes next in their lives. Sometimes they continue the glorious Pure Path, and sometimes they are swallowed back into the Ebony world.
Such is Our Parents' choice for them. Now who shall go first?
The Catalyst volunteered, and went inside.
The Room was completely devoid of light with a worn pillow in the center. Sighing, The Man In White sat down, crossed his legs, and for the first time in his life reflected on what he has done and will do.
Slowly he entered a trance.
He was back inside of his rented room. The bed was neatly done but the angel that has been plaguing him so long sat at the head of it, playing with something. Ramparte approached and heard panting. In her arms was a black Labrador puppy in the throes of dreaming. Across the room another dog ran around the place in great exuberance; not stopping until he clutched tightly upon a bone three times his size. Another noise he heard from behind him, and as he turned he was met face to face with an albino canine.
He glossed over him as the pup started barking, letting his voice be heard. Grabbing him by the scruff of the neck, he held him suspended in the air and spoke to the angel.
What manner of tricks are these, red-haired woman?
The gorgeous creature giggled at him, still stroking the shiny fur of the sleeping dog.
No tricks, Ray Roading. These three are of what are and what will be. You see before you your future.
Ramparte took a minute to look around the room once more. Realization finally dawned on him as he gently placed the white pup back onto the floor. The pup sulked off into a dark corner.
There are three dogs. Could this mean there's really a Third Head-
Before Ramparte could finish his question, the vision faded to white and flames erupted before him. A black throne presented itself in front of him. His purveyor of The List was heard in the far off distance.
Seize it, Ramparte! This is all about you, not them! They are merely a means to an end. You are meant for more, Catalyst! More!! More!!!
Let them all burn in their own flames!
Flex Mussél sat on a stool beside The Room. He began to worry a lot about his partner, about Svetlana and the prison they mean to break her from, and for himself. Eve Taylor and Aubrey Sloan were arguably the best female superstars on the roster today, not counting the monster of a dragon Amber Warren has become.
Amber Warren...
Mussél strived to be like her, and now she has gone and set out a match that ends careers. He looked up into the night sky and prayed. He prayed for her well being, and prayed for his partner's.
My followers tell me our other new White Worshiper has been keeping them from their prayers.
He didn't hear her coming, but nodded. Ramparte was being loud.
Any idea on what he could be saying in there?
The same thing he has said since he first shut the door...
Flex stood up and met her gaze head-on.
Burn them all.
Scene fades to white as the song "I See Fire" is heard.
