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Guest 1337 had always felt like something was wrong with him.
Ever since he was a child, he'd always been different, in a way, and not just due to his status as the last guest. To be saved for last, it was a cruel twist of the laws of Xenia, one made by a surprisingly clever Kyklops.
He was irregular.
Waking up in cold unexplainable sweats, nightmares that never left, but never explained their content. He held irrational fears– vast oceans and old boats triggering a quicking of his breath. He was everywhere, it was His domain, and he did not belong.
Yet he also held confusing likes, and unexplained beliefs– olives, owls, and laurel trees and tapestries brought forth a sense of strange contentment, and whenever he and Daisy held guests he'd always felt compelled to be the best host he could. Never again would he test the limits of how far Xenia could go, he would not let his hubristic nature be his undoing. That was a lesson he'd learned the hard way.
The most confusing feelings he holds are toward war. War had felt... natural, familiar in a way that he never could quite explain. Seeing the battlefield had of course scared and changed him– but not in the way his brothers in arms had described. Of course it was familiar, you do not spend ten years in it and simply forget such a thing. Not when you were practically in the center of it all.
Honestly, the worst part of it was the longing. Longing had felt painful, yet familiar, and he felt a mixed bag of guilt and shame over leaving. He missed his family, Guest wondered how they were doing without him. Waiting... was he cursed to make them wait? Forgive him, please, it was not his intention for this to happen a second time.
A sudden pang zapped through his head, and he groaned. The waters of the Lethe were losing hold?
Right, he was trying to scavenge the cabins for any headache or migraine reducers. To remeber a past life was unheard of, the rivers of the underworld always did their job. How was it that they were not? Was this a punishment? Had he offended the Host To Many?
'Hopefully, something I can manage before a round starts...' his face twisted into a grimace. He was already halfway through looking in his cabins mirror cabinet, and so far no dice. Just a bunch of anti-inflammatory pills and a few spare antibiotics. Nothing for his head.
When he reached the end, he slammed it closed with a groan. Pausing to stare in the mirror.
Another odd thing about him– he's always hated how he looked to a degree.
He didn't find himself repulsive, don't get him wrong. He was well built, and he'd been told he was fairly attractive. He knew this, appreciated it every now and then too. But sometimes his reflection felt like a curse, unnatural. Like he was staring at someone else instead. No longer himself. Neither man nor mythical. A monster.
His reflection had never really felt like his own. Something about the paleness, the colors of his eyes and hair were unsettling, and uncanny. Yet he's always looked the same, it was just... unexplainable. He found no trace of his Ithican features, where was his tanned skin from years on the Mediterranean Seas? Where was his dark hair? His brown eyes, once ringed with godly blessings of blue and red?
Deep blue was never his favorite color, it always reminded him too much of the ocean god–
He tore his eyes away from the mirror, hands flying up to press into his eyes as his head panged painfully again. He breathed hard through his nose, head protesting at the pressure.
Right. Getting medicine from someone was his next step. It's best to let sleeping dogs lie.
He hated to bother the others with something so relatively trivial, they had all dealt with worse at the hands of the killers during rounds. He could deal with a few headaches now and then, that was his initial thought. Yet... it was getting worse throughout the months they'd been dropped here. Along with his nightmares, the migraines were getting worse and more frequent. They were memories he should not be able to recall, how had this happened? Was this bore from the meddling of the Thing keeping them trapped?
If he'd go into a round now he'd be a liability. Reckless. Which would not do at all, and so Guest reluctantly made his way out his cabin to ask around. While Elliot came to mind first, being their teams healer and all– it was likely that he's busy making pizza for the upcoming round in the main cabin at the moment. So Guest went with the second man to come to mind– 007n7 was usually in his cabin around this time, so he'd ask him first.
He winced as a particularly creaky board on 007n7's porch rang out, loud and clear, rattling his train of thought and bringing forth another ache behind his eyes. Their boat, battered as it was, pulled through it all. He wished he could say the same for the others. He knocked lightly on the mans door, listening for movements inside for a few moments before it too let out a creak.
"Ah! Hey Guest," 007n7 was as jittery as ever, glasses slightly askew on his face in a way that tugged at Guests memory, "did you, ah, need anything?" He really did remind him of–
It hit Guest that he'd been silent for too long, he rubbed at his eyes again, "ugh, sorry, 007n7. Just– wanted to see if you had something for my head. Didn't have anything in my cabin for it..."
007 let out a hum, and Guest winced at the added noise, too familiar a tune, "come in! I'm sure there's probably something in my cabinet." The man opened the door wider.
Guest stepped inside, slightly greatful that the man preferred darker colors, it was easier on his eyes. He didn't think he could take anything too bright at the moment.
It took a solid moment of the man rummaging through his bathroom, but eventually 007 stepped out with two pills in one hand and a water bottle in the other.
"Hey! Sorry that took so long... I forgot what a lot of those did so I had to read a bunch of lables..."
Guest sat up, sighing in relief at the sight, "it's fine, Seven. Just glad I have something to help now...." he really was familiar wasn't he... no. No, he couldn't afford to be sentimental. Not about him.
He must have spaced out for a while, because suddenly 007n7 was staring him in the eyes with a deep concern, "you okay?"
Guest startled minutely, "I'm fine, Seven..." he reassured, hand clenching around the bottle, the sound of the plastic warping was ear grating.
Seven sighed, and gently pried his hand off the bottle to set it aside before he spoke to him, "You should relax, my friend. It'd do you good to calm down a little.... I know that it's... iffy here, when it comes to things like that, but it's still good do do yourself that service every now and then isn't it?" That was– no. No. Different phrasing. It was different. It was... it had to be. The conversation was getting too familiar. Too painful.
The man stared into his eyes, warm reddish brown irises filled with such a deep concern that Guest looked away, tense. How could he possibly take that offer? When there was just so much to do? He had to be strong, always strong and steady. He could not falter in that, to relax could mean injury... to be hubristic, to be so overly selfassured in his plans was what led to his comrades ends–
007n7 held his hand again, "I know that things are rough. But you don't always have to take the whole world on your shoulders–" Guests eye twitched at that, another pang in his head, and he winced. That... that reminded him of a religious story– Seven obviously noticed, because his face twisted into concern. "Right, sorry. Not the time...."
Guest was gently handed the two pills, "here, lets get these in you, so that headache can go kick rocks, eh?"
Guest huffed a short laugh, grabbing the bottle again, swallowing them both. "Thanks, Sev."
They sat in silence for a while, a calm understanding one, until suddenly the world around them glitched. Guest felt a tugging pull in his gut, and felt like he was flying before getting dropped into a round. It reminded him of that time on the witches island...
It was certainly a new location.
What looked like ancient ruins was sprawled around. A few walls were left standing, but there was a lot of rubble around too. What was left of the place was practically nothing, but Guest couldn't help but find it achingly familiar. Was this..?
He stumbled, right into 007n7, who looked like he was having a conniption himself. There was... no possibility that–
"This is..." Guest started to speak, but he just couldn't find the words. What exactly was this? This was... his palace. He'd built this sprawling ancient relic... He had an advantage, good. He could figure out a way to utilize that.
His jaw felt numb, throat aching and tongue heavy. Why did he feel so sick at the sight of a place he'd never been? He didn't know. He did. He just has to look deeper.
He turned to 007n7 instead of addressing it, "c-come on. We need to group up with the others. New territory is something we all need to work together to survive in." He didn't want to see anymore bodies covering these floors. Not ones that didn't deserve it.
007n7, usually one to stick to himself, rushed alongside him, sticking close as he nodded next to Guest 1337 almost robotically, "right, captain." ... it seemed like it was his old friend after all...
They navigated easily, almost familiar with the terrain in a way they couldn't explain. Only a few stray rocks would trip them up as they rushed past dimly lit torches and toward familiar voices.
It looked like a throne room was where everyone else had gathered. Including the killer, which was John Doe.
A loud growling yell rang out from the room. It rattled the walls and their old hanging tapestries, rattled the floors and the things on them.
It certainly rattled Guest, more accurately. It rattled his memory–
Flashes of scenery flitted in and out of his gaze, and he stumbled into a shaking 007n7, whos breath had quickened considerably. GuestODYSSEUS swallowed back the nausea, and straightened up.
He would not let him die the way he had back then. He would not have this dear friends blood on his hands once more.
His gaze fell on old objects. One was deeply familar, lacking a properly set string.
A grin spread across his face, and under the cover of the torches, guided by his own nostalgia; Odysseus once again set up his palintonos bow, and was ready to fire at an enemy within the palace walls. It was a little difficult to do it without the aid of Hermes' ichor flowing through his veins, but the thing trapping them here had given him a considerable buff that put him nearly on par.
He glanced down at the sword left by his feet, 'if im right...' he looked at 007n7, still waiting by the entrance and watching the battle. He flung his bow and quiver over his shoulder, snatching the weapon up.
Once again aided by the cast shadows, he made his way back. Guest put a gentle hand on 007n7s shoulder and they locked understanding eyes.
He lifted the sword, grip loose for once. His tongue was old as he spoke, nearly forgotten syllables passing his lips, "another fight together, friend?"
Despite the change in dialogue, 007n7 understood it well. A shaking grin spread across his face, "maybe this one will end better... my redemption arc." He jested back.
Guest barked a broken laugh, "that was awful, Polities... I missed you..."
"And I you, Ody. Let's focus on getting everyone back in one piece though, yeah?"
John Doe was less than prepared for the arrow through the neck– and not at all for the strikes at his heels the moment he was freed from that stun.